


Tournaments

by crickes



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora fucked up, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra (She-Ra)-centric, F/F, Human Catra (She-Ra), Lesbian Adora (She-Ra), Lesbian Catra (She-Ra), Mistakes were made, Oblivious Adora (She-Ra), POV Catra (She-Ra), Pining Catra (She-Ra), Softball, sports AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24676489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crickes/pseuds/crickes
Summary: She-Ra softball AU.Catra got left behind - again. Her best friend - wait, her ex-best friend - transferred schools without warning, leaving her all alone in a school that hates her. Catra's just tired of being abandoned by everyone she cares about.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 406
Collections: Finished111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspo credit: https://www.instagram.com/p/CBUXPBKpqxo/

The bright yellow ball whizzed by, just below her knees, almost skinning them in the process. Easy call. She relaxed her grip on her bat, loosening her stance a little bit to give herself a break before the next pitch.

“Strike.” Called the umpire from behind her.

“What?” Catra spat out, a little offended and surprised at the same time. “That wasn’t even close!”

The catcher snickered. “Give it up, Catra. Maybe try swinging the bat next time.”

“Whatever, _princess_.” Catra didn’t need Adora’s heckling right now. It was hard enough to concentrate on a small ball whizzing towards you at sixty miles per hour – she didn’t need her ex-best friend explaining her failures to her. She didn’t need to see behind the cage of the thick catcher’s mask to know Adora was smirking as she stood to toss the ball back to the pitcher, a new girl with purple hair and an annoyingly accurate fastball. The umpire tossed her hands up, indicating a 3-2 count. Great. She couldn’t afford to be picky anymore.

The pitcher rubbed her hand on the dirt, a vain attempt to dry up the sweat that clung to every players’ skin on the field. As she stepped up onto the mound, Catra held up her hand and stepped out of the batter’s box, unable to hide her smirk. The umpire stopped the game.

“Really, Catra? She’s just a freshman. Stop messing with her. That’s low.”

“Aw, Adora – nothing’s too low for me.”

Adora didn’t respond. Catra swung her bat a few times to loosen up her shoulders before holding a hand up to the pitcher again and stepping into the box, touching the tip of her bat to the two top corners of the plate to line herself up and then twirling her bat up onto her shoulder. A little bit of a flashy ritual, maybe, but certainly better than the Catholic girls who crossed themselves and prayed before they took up their position. She lowered her raised hand onto her bat’s grip, lifting it off of her shoulder.

She didn’t have a lot of time to react. As soon as her hand dropped, the new pitcher was in motion. Behind her, Adora shifted her weight, something she only did when a changeup was coming. Catra adjusted the angle and position of her front foot just in time, rocked her weight back on her other foot, and swung, slow and solid.

_CRACK_

The bat made contact with the ball – a changeup, just like she had predicted – and the ball flew through the air. A solid line drive heading right in between center and left field. Perfect. She didn’t hesitate to toss her bat and race towards first. Scorpia, the team captain, was jumping up and down next to first, windmilling her arm.

“Go! Keep going!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. Catra rounded first.

Coach Weaver was by third, and was giving her a more subtle indicator. She held up a fist with her pinky bent upwards. _Round second but relax, don’t head for third yet_. Catra did as she was told. She rounded second, slowing down only momentarily. Coach Weaver’s pinky folded into her fist. _Run for third_. Catra ran.

She rounded third, hesitant. She had no idea where the ball was in play at, rather she relied on the instructions from her coaches and hoped that they wouldn’t do her dirty. Coach Weaver was behind her, whispering “Wait for it, dive back if that blasted shortstop catches the ball.”

The short stop missed. Coach Weaver screamed for Catra to run home. Catra did as she was told. In front of her, Adora was guarding the plate, her catcher’s helmet thrown to the ground. Her blonde hair was tied up in a braid, but wisps of it had broken loose and were stuck to the sweat on her face. She always had been pretty, even when she was objectively disgusting. Catra ignored her own thoughts, focused only on getting to the base. She had no idea where the ball was, but Adora was right in her way, blocking the bag. Whatever. Catra would just run right through her and let the buffer girl take the interference violation. The thought of running into the steel wall that was Adora was not fun, but the idea of getting yelled at by Coach Weaver if she didn’t was worse.

Adora planted her feet, eyes focused on something just behind Catra’s shoulder. Someone must’ve recovered the ball. Whatever. Just a few more feet.

Sliding came so naturally to Catra that she never really had to think about it. Her right leg tucked up behind her left knee, and she dropped to the ground, sliding through Adora’s legs. Adora caught the ball, and slammed her glove down onto Catra’s head, way harder than Catra thought was necessary. If she hadn’t been wearing a helmet, she would’ve probably gotten a concussion.

“Safe.” The umpire called.

Cheers erupted from the Horde’s dugout, and it brought a smile to Catra’s face.

Adora, on the other hand, looked a little upset. Catra hated seeing her like that, even if they weren’t friends anymore.

“Hey.” Catra said quietly. “That was close. Good catch.”

Adora stared at her in surprise, mouth hanging open, before she squinted at her.

“Thanks.”

Catra regretted saying anything. She should’ve known Adora wouldn’t exactly want to hear anything she had to say about the matter. She should’ve just kept her mouth shut.

“Whatever.” Catra knew her voice sounded icy, but she didn’t care.

Adora’s eyes went wide again. “Hey, no, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t like losing. You know that.”

Catra didn’t really want to hear Adora’s excuses. She didn’t get to be upset with Catra when she’s the one who left Catra behind. That’s not how this worked.

“Yeah, I get it, princess. It’s fine.”

She stalked off, grabbing her bat off the ground on her way back to the dugout.


	2. Chapter 2

“That was too close of a play, Catra. I expect better of you next time.”

Catra barely contained her eye roll, opting instead to stare at her cuticles as she gently picked at them. Leave it to Coach to find the flaws in a fucking _home run_. A home run against the league’s best team, no less. Against the league’s best _catcher_. She had managed to slide home against Adora, a catcher so good she had managed to get snatched up by the best private school in the state on a full scholarship. Of course Coach Weaver wouldn’t care about that. No, she only cared that Catra hadn’t scored a _perfect_ run. Whatever.

“Anything to say for yourself?”

Catra shrugged, knowing full well that any words she could offer in her self-defense would get twisted into some unrecognizable meaning. The other girls in the dugout were quiet, idly avoiding looking in her direction. The occasional sound of sunflower seed shells landing on the ground was the only thing that could be heard from them.

The field was empty. The game was over. Brightmoon Rebels 3, Hordak Horde 1. Coach Weaver was pissed, and as usual, she was taking her anger out on Catra.

It didn’t used to be this bad. Before, when Adora was still on their team, Weaver would usually focus on praising the catcher for her skill or some special play she had made during the game. Now, she focused all of her energy – usually negative – on Catra. It sucked. Catra was used to it at this point.

“Pathetic.” Weaver spit out. “Can’t even defend yourself, huh?”

Catra felt anger flash through her. “Why bother?” she exclaimed. “You’re only going to punish me if I do.”

Weaver hesitated for a second before turning to the team.

“Tomorrow’s practice is going to start at five a.m.. Be there bright and early. We’re going to work on conditioning.”

The team groaned.

“Thanks a lot, Catra.” Lonnie complained, spitting sunflowers seeds on the ground.

“Don’t thank Catra, she’ll be doing her own separate practice tomorrow. I’m thinking two hours of suicides should get that attitude under control.”  
“What?!” Catra shouted. “That’s basically abuse.”

“Don’t make me add in bleachers and burpees.” The warning tone in Weaver’s voice barely masked the sound of enjoyment. Catra clamped her mouth shut. Of course, Coach was enjoying fucking with her. What else did she expect?

* * *

Catra lay in bed, tossing a softball up in the air over her head and practicing her wrist flick. It was an easy enough exercise that didn’t require any actual effort, and she frequently found herself doing it when she was bored.

She was bored a lot lately.

Part of her didn’t want to admit that she had been bored since Adora had switched schools.

Laughter echoed up from the street. A group of teenagers were outside of her house, from the sound of it. She peeked out of the window.

Across the street, on Adora’s front lawn, there was a small group of teenagers. Adora herself was holding a glove and tossing a ball back and forth with the pink-haired pitcher from the game earlier. A tall, blue-haired girl was lounging on a deck chair on the front porch, her legs draped over a very tall boy with maroon hair and the tackiest mustache Catra had ever seen. Another boy was laying in the grass with a ukulele, strumming it lazily with his eyes closed.

Great. Adora had started a hippie commune across the street from her, and now she was going to have to live with the noise until she moved out for college.

She was too busy glaring out the window to notice when Adora looked at her. It wasn’t until the blonde girl started waving that Catra had realized her mistake. She ducked down below the window quickly, hoping that Adora couldn’t see the flustered look on her face. She groaned in frustrating, wiping a hand over her eyes. How stupid.

Her phone buzzed, and she groaned again.

_Adora, 16:30 : Hey, caught you lookin :)_

Of course Adora wouldn’t just drop it.

_Catra, 16:30 : Yeah, whatever._

Catra knew it sounded rude, but at least she responded this time.

_Adora, 16:32 : Wow, I didn’t think I’d ever actually hear from you again. Who are you and what did you do to my best friend lol_

Catra avoided the urge to reply with something incredibly mean, and instead went with the PG-version of her message.

_Catra, 16:33 : I’m not your best friend._

_Catra, 16:33 : Not anymore, at least._

Her phone was silent for a few minutes before it buzzed again. And again. And again.

Jesus, Adora really wasn’t going to let that go, was she? Catra knew she was being mean, but she was also being honest. What was the harm in honesty?

_Adora, 16:34 : Ouch_

_Adora, 16:34 : Look, I said I was sorry_

_Adora, 16:34 : and I really_ am _sorry_

_Adora, 16:34 : I didn’t realize I was going to hurt you so much by taking the scholarship_

_Adora, 16:34 : If I had known, I wouldn’t have taken it_

_Adora, 16:34 : I swear_

Catra didn’t believe that for a second. Adora would’ve taken the scholarship either way. It was way too important to her. A full-ride scholarship to a private school with the best softball team in the state? The chance to be first-string catcher for a nationally recognized team? Of course, she would’ve taken the scholarship either way. Of course, she _should’ve_ taken the scholarship either way. Catra didn’t begrudge her the scholarship. She was angry that Adora didn’t tell her until after she had switched schools.

With a huff, she grabbed a pillow off of her bed and smashed her face into it, muffling a frustrated scream. She was just so angry at Adora. They were supposed to be best friends. Why didn’t Adora act like it. Her phone buzzed again.

_Adora, 16:40 : Besides, I still think you're my best friend, even if you don't think I'm yours..._

Catra turned her phone on airplane mode, and popped in some headphones, hoping to drown out the sound of the laughing teenagers outside of her window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow guess this isn't gonna be a one-shot after all. let's see how long I keep this shit up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's real smooth brain energy in this household, friends.  
> srsly tho i know my chapters are short but it's bc i have untreated adhd and if i don't post as soon as I have the impulse, i won't post again bc i'll be too distracted by the possibility of a super complex fic  
> oh yeah and this is set in texas bc that's the softball culture i know and understand so like... deal with it?  
> also i don't edit these before i post so these are basically just rough drafts that i'm posting because i need validation??  
> thank u so much for liking this weird au ily all
> 
> Also, I know I'm specifically referring to the exercise, but like, suicide tw. It's not actually about suicide, it's just an unfortunately-but-aptly named exercise that you should totally look up because they're the bane of my existence.

Catra didn’t actually hate running. Long distance could be fun and after a while, she usually fell into a good rhythm, one that made her blood pump faster and her adrenaline race.

No, Catra loved running. However, she _hated_ suicides. She especially hated them when Coach Weaver was the one who set them up. It was already hard enough trying to do sprints, but Weaver always added in extra levels to the exercise that other coaches would probably consider cruel and unusual punishment. Catra certainly did. Right now, for example, Coach Weaver had said that instead of the traditional quick turn associated with changing directions during a suicide, Catra had to slide at the end of each sprint, stand up quickly, sprint in the opposite direction, and end in another slide, repeating the process until the entire round was done. She was pretty sure this somehow violated the Geneva Convention or something.

What made things worse is how Coach Weaver seemed to be aware of how cruel she was being. Anytime Catra made a mistake like sliding too far or not recovering quickly enough, Weaver added another bleacher onto her routine. So far, she had been running suicides for thirty minutes straight, and was expected to do so for at least another half hour. Plus, she now had four bleacher sets to complete after her current punishment.

All because she got too close to getting tagged out on a risk that Coach Weaver had explicitly told her to take. Whatever.

Catra was doing her best to zone out and ignore the burning in her legs. She knew she was going to be sore tomorrow. She actually generally considered herself to be in pretty good shape – you kind of had to be to play for a varsity team – but Coach Weaver’s conditioning practices could leave anyone hurting, even when they weren’t explicitly designed for one player’s torture.

Her teammates, for example, were currently running laps around the edges of the field, a single file line of black uniforms and red knee socks chugging along under the hot sun.

That was the only thing Catra would admit she was jealous of when it came to Brightmoon Academy – their uniforms. The lucky assholes got to wear white uniforms with purple accents, and when it was bright and sunny outside, they didn’t get nearly as overheated as any of the kids on the Horde’s team did. Whoever had chosen Hordak High’s colors clearly hadn’t been thinking with the sports teams’ comfort in mind because if they had, black and dark red would _not_ have been their first choice. It certainly wasn’t Catra’s.

Part of her missed playing for little league and select teams before high school. Most select teams didn’t force you to wear your uniform to practice, and instead they just let you wear whatever you wanted as long as your ass was covered. She used to love finding the weirdest t-shirts she could at thrift stores and wearing them to practice, tucked into the ever-present high waist of her polyester softball pants. Now, though, there was no individuality. The high school – and more specifically, Weaver – required uniformity at all times, during the school day, during practice, constantly. It was always the same. You had to wear black clothes with red accents all the time. Even prom had a strict dress code, although it didn’t require the same color restrictions.

Catra missed being able to express herself, a lot. She wondered sometimes if that was part of why Adora had transferred. She knew that Adora didn’t really seem to care as much about the uniforms as Catra did – she certainly didn’t slash holes in her clothes like Catra did when she was desperate for even the tiniest amount of self-expression – but Catra knew it had bothered her a little bit.

Catra shook her head. It didn’t matter _why_ Adora had left, it only mattered that she _had_ left.

She slid into the end of her sprint, going about a foot past the distance cone before stopping.

“That’s five bleachers now, Catra. You better start being more careful. Next mistake you make, I’m doubling the amount.”

Catra groaned as she pushed herself off of the ground and immediately turned to sprint again. 

* * *

Adora’s hippie commune had reformed again in her front lawn, all engaging in the same objectively-weird activities that they had been the day before. Didn’t any of them have their own lives? Why did they have to all crowd into Catra’s neighborhood singing kumbaya every freaking day?

Catra had no clue how she was going to get past them and into her own home without being spotted. Adora was back in the front yard again, tossing the ball around with her new friends and laughing at something the maroon-headed mustache guy had just said. The sound of her laugh made Catra freeze. She missed when the two of them would play catch for hours on end, trading insults and jokes until they were laughing so hard they could barely stand.

Now, though, Adora had new friends that could make her laugh, and Catra just had a headache.

She sat back on her bike seat, debating whether or not it was worth it to try and climb over her neighbors fence to get to her own backyard. It would be easy, yes, and her neighbors wouldn’t exactly mind… but they had a big, overly-friendly pitbull that always tried to lick her face and jump on her for hugs, and she wasn’t particularly in the mood to get bulldozed by a dog right now.

The only other option was to just hope they didn’t notice her. She was sweaty as hell, and her hair was stuck to her face and neck, making it itch. Her clothes were covered in grass and mud stains from the constant sliding at practice, and there were even a couple of tears in her uniform from an unfortunate run-in with a sticker patch in the scraggly prairie grass. To put it simply: she looked like a disaster, and everyone in the makeshift commune looked like a rich kid who wiped their asses with their parent’s pocket change. Except for Adora, of course. She looked the same as ever. Maybe happier than she had while at Hordak High, but Catra wasn’t sure if that was just her imagination.

Heaving a sigh, Catra pushed her bike forward, pedaling down the street as nondescriptly as she could manage. She made it all of twenty feet before she heard a bubbly, “Hey, Catra!”.

She ignored Adora.

“Catra!”

She kept pedaling. In her pocket, her phone buzzed.

* * *

It wasn’t until the moon was up and the whole neighborhood was asleep that Catra finally had the balls to check the message from Adora.

Adora, 14:02 : Hey, I just saw you biking. You must’ve had headphones in or something bc you didn’t respond when I said hi. I just wanted to tell you I missed you and that I hope practice was fun

Leave it to Adora to give Catra plausible deniability. She knew Adora was well aware that Catra was ignoring her, but she always had to be the hero and make sure Catra knew she wasn’t mad. Whatever.

Her fingers played over the keyboard, twitching to reply. It was hard not talking to her best friend. Ex-best friend. Hell, Adora had only switched schools a month ago, and Catra still hadn’t adjusted. Sometimes, at practice, whenever Weaver said something particularly annoying, Catra still instinctively looked over her shoulder to share a smirk with Adora, only to feel that heartbreak all over again when her best friend wasn’t looking back at her, trying to suppress a giggle.

She switched off her phone with a sigh. Yeah, she was lonely. She didn’t exactly have a lot of friends. Her attitude had always made it a little difficult for anyone to want to spend time with her. The only person at Hordak who treated her with any level of friendliness was Scorpia, and that was only because Scorpia was nice to _everyone_. Seriously, Catra would pay money to meet anyone Scorpia _wasn’t_ nice to. It just didn’t seem possible.

Adora was the only one who had ever tried to be her friend. She had taken Catra’s snarky personality in stride, never taking offense at any of the barbs Catra threw her way. In fact, she had always laughed at the insults, finding them hilarious. They just rolled off her back in a way that Catra almost envied.

Catra took insults so personally. She pretended like they didn’t hurt her, but honestly? They did hurt – a lot. And people insulted her a lot, too. She had always been an easy target. Scrawny, scrappy, frizzy hair that she couldn’t control, the burn scars that striped her arms. When the kids at school had found out she was adopted? That hadn’t gone well either. The taunts still burned in her mind to this day. _Wow, your own parents didn’t want you? How could you think that anyone ever would?_

She shook her head. One person did. Well, one person _had_. Then that person had left. Now no one did.

She flicked on her bedside lamp. If she wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep, she might as well do something productive. She retrieved her sketchbook from its hiding spot under the mattress and got to work laying down a rough sketch. She wasn’t really planning on drawing anything in particular, instead just letting the pencil lead her. A solid body, standing in a defensive position, arm outstretched.

Her phone buzzed.

_Adora, 00:22 : Why are you still awake?_

Catra responded without hesitation, only cringing when she realized she was supposed to be ignoring Adora.

_Catra, 00:22 : Couldn't sleep, started drawing_

Of course, Adora responded immediately.

_Adora, 00:22 : Can I see? :3_

_Catra, 00:22 : no_

Catra kept working on her drawing. A braid was taking shape, flying off of the figures’ shoulder like it had just turned its head quickly. Flyaways were sticking out everywhere.

Adora, 00:23 : )))): 

_Adora, 00:23 : I’m bored_

Catra snorted.

_Catra, 00:23 : go to sleep or something_

_Adora, 00:23 : I can’t_

_Adora, 00:23 : this is the first real conversation we’ve had in weeks_

_Adora, 00:23 : I can’t just go to sleep now_

Catra blocked out the shape of a softball glove on the figure’s hand.

_Adora, 00:23 : I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it_

_Adora, 00:25 : I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable_

_Adora, 00:25 : I just really miss you_

_Adora, 00:25 : and I’m really happy to hear from you again_

_Adora, 00:25 : And I just_

_Adora, 00:25 : I don’t know_

_Adora, 00:26 : I miss hanging out with you and having sleepovers when we couldn’t sleep_

_Adora, 00:26 : like normally right now, we’d be trying to sneak me into your house_

_Adora, 00:26 : and I’d bring a backpack full of snacks and stuff_

_Adora, 00:26 : but I feel like there’s this wall up between us and I feel weird doing that_

Catra sketched the outline of a catcher’s chest plate.

_Adora, 00:30 : again, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it._

The catcher’s shin guards came next. They were a little harder to draw. It was hard enough to capture the shape of Adora’s legs usually, but the catcher’s gear always threw another level of difficulty into the mix.

Catra froze. Holy shit.

She looked at her drawing.

Yup, that was Adora. The wide set of her shoulders, the determined stance, the way her body bent at the waist to catch the ball that she was going to tag Catra out with.

Catra closed her sketchbook. She closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing them with the back of her hand.

Why couldn’t she just get over Adora.

_Adora, 00:37 : Look, I really would prefer to say this in person, but you haven’t been giving me the chance. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. And I miss you. Like. I miss more than I ever thought I could. You’re my best friend, and I need you in my life. Nothing has felt right without you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was planning on transferring. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the scholarship. I’m just sorry. For everything._

Catra felt like crying. Instead, she flipped her sketchbook back open and snapped a picture of her latest sketch.

_Catra, 00:41 : attached: img.4897_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's secret title is "Catra is an emotionally stunted baby with ptsd and abandonment issues and she doesn't always know how to articulate her feelings so she tries to pretend like she doesn't have any except adora sees right through that because they've been friends forever but now they don't talk anymore so adora doesn't know how to get through to catra but she feels bad about hurting her and wants to make it right"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls keep in mind that I really don't revise these chapters before I post them lol so if they're bad... oops

“Hey, Catra.” Adora’s voice sounded tinny over the phone, and it was almost enough to mask just how nervous her voice was. “I… didn’t think you’d pick up.”

Catra shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly before realizing that, _duh_ , it was a phone call.

“Yeah, well… you know,” She grunted, hoping that was enough to qualify as an answer.

“Yeah.” Adora agreed.

They were silent. The tension was almost enough to strangle Catra.

“So…” Adora began. Her voice was awkward, as if she were scared of something. “Are you gonna be in the scrimmage next week?”

Catra paused. Adora really wanted to talk softball right now?

“Yeah, unless Weaver benches me.”

“Why would she bench you?”

“She’s not exactly happy with how the last game between our teams went. She blames me.”

“How the hell does she figure that?” Adora sounded shocked. Catra was a little surprised. Adora wasn’t exactly known for her willingness to use profanity; it was something she reserved specifically for situations she thought deserved it. Catra, on the other hand…

“Eh, you know how it is. She doesn’t like how things are going, so they must be my fault. I’m used to it.”

Adora was quiet for a moment.

“That’s not really healthy.”

“It is what it is.”

The silence stretched out longer this time, the tension building back up. Catra coughed, hoping to break some of the quiet.

This was so stressful. Talking to her best friend had never been this difficult, even when they were fighting before. Adora had always been the kind of person that Catra could be herself around. She could always say whatever she wanted to her, and she could trust that Adora would give her honesty and kindness in return.

Now? Adora had broken that honesty. How could Catra trust her to not break that kindness as well?

“So, um. That drawing. Is that really what I looked like during the game?” Adora was testing the waters, trying to tease her gently. It worked, a little. The corner of Catra’s mouth lifted, completely unintentionally.

“Dude, you’re scary as hell to run against. Especially when you’re blocking the plate like that. I was worried that if I ran into you, it would be like a bug on a windshield or something. Sploosh.” Her hand mimed an explosion to accentuate her point, even though Adora wouldn’t be able to see that.

“I never really thought about that, I guess. I just, stand where I’m supposed to, you know?”

“Adora, you were standing right on the line. If I had touched you, it would’ve been interference. You’re lucky I chose to slide instead.”

“Oh, so now I’m lucky that you scored a run on me with talent instead of a technicality?” The teasing tone was definitely there, but it was slightly offset by the compliment. Catra was glad Adora couldn’t see her blushing.

Wait.

Why was she blushing?

Whatever.

She pushed down the weird feeling in her gut, boxing it up to deal with at a later time.

“Yeah, you’re lucky I didn’t just try to tackle you. You might’ve been pulled from the game.”

“Nah, Coach Angella would’ve understood.” She coughed awkwardly.

“Yeah, well,” Catra did her best to ignore the immediate jealous response that flared to the surface.

“Um. It was a really good drawing, Catra.”

“Thanks.” Catra knew she was being dry.

“No, I’m serious. I just didn’t realize how, um, how scary I could look. It’s kind of a confidence booster for when I’m on the field,” She laughed slightly, “It’s just a little concerning.”

“Concerning how?”

“Well, now I’m worried that that’s what I look like all the time. Do I always look like I’m about to brain someone, or is that just a field thing?”

Catra responded before she had a chance to really think about what she was saying.

“No, um, you don’t.” God, she sounded so awkward. “You look beautiful, even when you’re gross-looking.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” Adora’s voice was shy, quiet.

Catra almost kicked herself. Beautiful? Jesus, she was being weird.

Catra had always known she was gay. It was just one of those things she had figured out at a young age. She had heterochromia, she was a girl, she had frizzy brown hair, and she liked girls. No one else knew, though. She certainly hadn’t told Adora. It’s not that Adora was a hardcore homophobe or anything. On the contrary, she openly spoke about how LGBT individuals deserved equal rights and protections under the law. It was just… Adora was so painfully straight sometimes, and Catra really didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. She had heard stories of girls that came out to their best friends, only to drift apart afterwards because the straight one was always paranoid about the gay one hitting on them. She didn’t want to lose Adora over something like that.

Adora seemed to not care so much about losing her though. The transfer was proof of that.

“Yeah, sure. Blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic. Isn’t that every guys’ dream?” Catra hoped that would be enough to throw Adora off.

“Oh, yeah… right.” Was Catra insane or did Adora sound disappointed? “Anyways, um…”

“Yeah, what’s up?”  
“Would you want to come over tomorrow? We could hang out and do homework or something.”

“Um…” Catra wasn’t sure. On one hand, she didn’t really trust the olive branch that Adora was offering her, but on the other… She really missed the other girl. Whatever, if she got hurt again, at least she’d be expecting it this time, right? “Sure. What time?”

* * *

Adora’s house looked the same as it always had. Her aunt wasn’t exactly known for interior design, and it showed. Mismatched furniture filled every room, taking up more space than was necessary. The walls were cluttered with photographs – some in frames, but most just scotch taped onto any open surface. Every flat surface was covered in some kind of knick knack or object that Razz had picked up during her time as a travel agent. Overall, it made the airy architecture of house feel much more cramped than it actually was. To most people, the place was probably a hoarding nightmare. To Catra, it was comfortable and warm, welcoming in a way that most homes weren’t.

“We can, uh, go chill in my room… if you want?”

“Sure.”

Adora’s room was the opposite of the rest of the house. Everything had its place. The small desk shoved in the corner had storage containers for everything, her shoes were lined up neatly on the rack by her closet, and her bed was nicely made with an accent pillow thrown in the middle at just the perfect angle. Catra had never understood how one person could be so neat.

She toed off her boots, kicking them off in whatever direction and earning an eye roll from Adora. Her backpack slid off her shoulder as she made her way towards the bed, eager to sit and relax after a long day.

“So… I only have a little bit of homework tonight, just a quick essay and some flashcards. If you’re cool with it, I was thinking maybe we could watch a movie afterwards? I don’t know how much homework you have and I don’t want to make any assumptions but I was hoping we could maybe watch that new season of-“

“Adora.” Catra interrupted the other girls babbling. “It’s okay, you can chill out. I’m not just… gonna run out of here at the first sign of trouble.”

Adora let out a breath Catra hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Good. Um, okay, I’m gonna…” she trailed off, pointing to her desk.

Catra shrugged her shoulders and waved her arms in a way that she hoped said _be my guest_. Catra herself didn’t have any homework. Well, she did, but she wasn’t planning on doing it, not while she was here at Adora’s house for the first time in months. She could do it later, after dinner.

Instead, she opted to pull out her sketchbook, and begin blocking out the shape of Adora as she sat there hunched over her schoolwork. Adora was one of Catra’s favorite subjects. She’d never tell her friend that, of course, but it was true. She just had this unique beauty. It wasn’t something you’d traditionally see in male-gaze dominated media. No, Adora wasn’t thin or waifish or blessed with fairy-light facial features. Instead, she had strength woven into every fiber of her being. Her nose was long and straight, complimenting the arch of her larger forehead. Her eyes were ice blue and large, and they were framed by the hood of her eyelids. Her top lip was a little too full for her bottom lip, but her strong chin and jaw balanced them out and gave her the appearance of even lips.

Yeah, she was beautiful.

It was part of why Catra loved her.

Catra froze, her pencil skidding over the end of Adora’s muscular shoulder.

 _Loved_ her?

Adora looked up at her, a question poised on the tip of her tongue, but she held it when she noticed Catra’s face. Concern washed over her beautiful features.

 _There’s the beauty thing again. What the fuck?_ Catra thought to herself.

“Hey,” Adora said hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

Catra nodded, coughing a little.

“Yeah, I, uh, just realized I had an assignment due yesterday that I forgot about.”

It was hard to ignore the relief in Adora’s eyes when she realized Catra hadn’t decided this visit was a mistake.

“Oh, okay!” She said, brightly. “I was gonna go grab some snacks from downstairs. Want me to grab you anything?”

“You got any jerky?”

Adora grimaced. “No, Razz is on another veggie kick, so there’s no meat right now.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe some chips or something.”

“You cool with veggie chips?”

“Yeah.” 

“Alright, cool.” Adora hopped up out of her chair, and headed for the door. She hesitated under the frame.

“Hey, um, I’m really glad you’re here.”

She left before Catra could respond.

Catra eyed her drawing. It was rough, but it already presented a passable likeness of the blonde girl. Did she love her best friend? Of course she loved her, but did she _love her_ love her? Was that why she got so hurt when Adora left?

No, she decided. She would’ve been hurt either way. Adora pulled a shady move, and Catra had every right to be upset about that.

But was she in love with Adora?

Catra went back to sketching, hoping the movement of the pencil would be enough to distract her. The small curlicue baby hair over her temple. The little mole on her cheek. The tiny little wrinkle on her forehead from all of her time in the sun. All of the little details that made Adora who Catra loved.

Fuck. Yeah, she was in love with her best friend. Her best friend who hadn’t cared enough to tell her she was transferring schools until after she was gone.

Fucking shit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the benefit of writing off the cuff and not planning what you want to do beforehand is that when the story twists, you as the writer also get to experience that twist too. On the other hand, I'll never make a good slowburn writer.  
> Anyways, I didn't edit this chapter at all, to no one's surprise. However, this is a doozy of a long piece so buckle in. It's worth it though!

The following week went by in a blur. Everything reminded Catra of her newfound problem, from the water fountain they used to meet at when skipping class to the locker room where they used to prep for practices. She couldn’t escape the ghost of the girl she loved.

Not even sleep could provide a refuge anymore. On the good nights, she’d have bittersweet dreams about being able to freely love the girl she could never have. On the bad nights, she’d have nightmares about the worst possible ways Adora could react to finding out the news. Not only did she not know that Catra was gay – now she could find out that Catra was gay _and in love with her_. That was enough to cause serious problems in any friendship, let alone one already strained by broken hearts and broken promises.

The only time Catra could truly get out of her head was during practice. Coach Weaver, while annoyingly persistent when Catra wasn’t hung up on a straight girl, actually seemed to be helping Catra focus right now. After all, it was hard to get distracted when a line-drive was speeding right at your nose.

Catra fielded the ball, catching it on the fly and tossing it to the scrawny second-string freshman on first.

“Again!” Coach Weaver barked, tossing another ball in the air and swinging her bat one handed to hit it to Catra. She fielded the ball, tossing it to the first baseman again in one fluid motion.

“Passable.” Coach Weaver changed the angle of her body towards the third baseman and repeated the process.

Well, it was easy to ignore Adora’s looming presence in her mind when she was the one actively fielding grounders and practicing her throws, but it wasn’t so easy when she was standing there waiting for other people to do the same.

Except the ball didn’t go to the third baseman.

It flew right at her face, faster than the previous hits had. Catra barely had enough time to react. She got her glove up in front of her eyes just in time, and the _THWACK_ of the ball landing in the pocket was almost enough to make her flinch.

“Hey, what the fuck?” she exclaimed without thinking.

“Pay better attention next time. Do a lap for your language.”

Catra huffed and tossed her glove to the ground. Whatever.

Running did not provide an adequate distraction. Catra found her mind wandering. What was Adora doing now? Was she also practicing? Were the Rebels preparing for the scrimmage tomorrow, too?

What were practices like at Brightmoon? Catra couldn’t imagine that their coach was nearly as mean to them as Coach Weaver was to the Horde, but she didn’t really have a frame of reference on what a normal team functioned like, either. Maybe Weaver actually was normal? Maybe it was normal to consistently punish players for stepping an inch out of line or making minor mistakes. Catra certainly didn’t know.

Did Adora like playing for Brightmoon more than Hordak?

Catra had only seen Brightmoon’s coach a few times. Tall, thin, willow-y. Bright pink and purple hair that floated gracefully down her sloping shoulders. Her oval face looked kind, and Catra had never seen her yell at her team while they were on the field like Weaver did. Maybe she saved the yelling for when the team wasn’t out in front of their parents.

Catra chugged along, passing by the edge of centerfield. The question kept popping up. Did Adora like Brightmoon more than Hordak?

She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but what she was really asking was _Does Adora like her new hippie commune friends more than me_?

It was certainly a possibility. Catra wasn’t exactly the sweetest donut in the box. Hell, she was more of an asshole than Weaver sometimes, she just didn’t really have the power of a coaching position to back it up. Adora could’ve easily just ditched her whenever. Catra had definitely not made life easy on her recently, what with the cold shoulder routine and the snarky replies to Adora’s attempts to reach out.

Maybe Adora hadn’t meant to hurt her? If she had wanted to, she could’ve just disappeared from Catra’s life without so much as a second glance, only having to put up with her when they ran into each other in their shared neighborhood. Instead, she had willingly gone out of her way to reach out to Catra, only to keep trying harder and harder the more Catra ignored her.

Still, Adora had hurt her, whether she had intended to or not, and Catra still felt like she had a right to be offended and wary. Adora knew Catra’s history, what her birth parents had done. Hell, Adora was adopted, too. She should’ve known how Catra was going to take her transfer, especially when there was zero warning ahead of time.

But… could Catra really keep holding this grudge against her forever? Maybe… maybe they could just talk about it? Adora had always been patient with Catra, even if Catra hadn’t always been the best at communication, but Adora had been trying so hard to reach out to her. Maybe the least Catra could do was reach out to her in return.

She rounded the corner of left field.

Yeah, that’s what she would do. That would help clear up the awkwardness. Maybe they could put all of this behind them, and go back to being real friends again, without feeling like they were walking on eggshells. Of course, then Catra would have to deal with her newfound feelings, but it might be easier to move on if she could be around Adora as a friend again.

Once she passed third base, she veered left, heading for the glove she had discarded between second and third.

* * *

She had planned on biking home, showering, and then texting Adora to see if she wanted to hang. She had _not_ planned on getting roped into joining the commune while she was covered in sweat and red dirt stains. She had certainly not planned on receiving a group hug from all of the kumbaya weirdos in Adora’s front yard.

Adora was very obviously struggling to control her laughter. Her face was bright red, and her eyes were shining as she watched Catra swipe at anyone who tried to come within hugging distance. Catra knew she looked like a mess. She didn’t know how she had ended up in Adora’s front yard, and she desperately wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Adora said, giggles breaking through her attempt at seriousness, “You can shower in my bathroom if you want. I think that I have some of your clothes in my bottom right drawer in my dresser. Just go on up. Razz isn’t home.”

“Are you sure?” Catra was downright _disgusting_ right now. Sweat plastered her frizzy hair to her scalp, she was pretty sure the scrape she had gotten diving for an errant grounder at practice was bleeding again. The last thing she wanted right now was for Adora’s new rich-kid friends to see her post-practice.

“Yeah, of course. Just head on up. I think there’s still some of that shampoo you bought under the sink, too.” Adora was trying very, very hard to be nonchalant about Catra using her bathroom, and Catra appreciated it. Catra knew that it wasn’t technically a weird thing for her to be doing. The two girls had grown up together, and over time, a lot of Catra’s stuff had made its way into Adora’s house. Shampoo, clothes, extra shoes. It just made it easier for her whenever they had impromptu sleepovers, cutting down on the number of times she had to run across the street to pack up a quick go-bag for the night.

“Alright, cool.” She glanced around. None of the other kids seemed to be paying her anymore attention. The pink-haired freshman was lounging with ukulele boy again. Blue-hair was with maroon-mustache again. The whole group’s dynamic seemed pretty set. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep disrupting them with her presence.

“Afterwards, we were all gonna go get some food. Come with us?” Adora’s eyes were wide and hopeful.

Catra hesitated. Sure, the group had been welcoming enough, dragging her off of her bicycle for a round of introductory hugs. None of their names had stuck, though. That might make for awkward dinner conversation.

Adora seemed to sense her hesitation.

“Hey, no pressure, I swear,” She waved her hands in front of her. “I just thought it might be fun.”

“Yeah… maybe.”

Adora’s eyes brightened.

“I can live with a ‘maybe’.”

Catra gave her a small smile and headed inside, making her way through the cramped house. In Adora’s bedroom, she retrieved some clothes, an old shirt she had stolen from Adora and cropped a few years prior, and a pair of soft denim shorts covered in bleach stains from the time she and Adora had decided they wanted to bleach Catra’s mane of hair. She smiled as her fingers ghosted over the stains.

Adora’s bathroom was attached to her bedroom, and it was just as organized as the bedroom itself. A quick glance under the counter revealed that she did indeed have some shampoo leftover, but no conditioner. Eh, whatever, she could just use some of Adora’s.

The shower went quickly, and she shut out all thoughts of Adora and feelings and all that bullshit. The smell of Adora’s coconut shampoo washed over her, though, and it was incredibly distracting. Maybe it had been a mistake to not just deal with the dry hair she would’ve had from not using conditioner.

Too late now.

She finished showering quickly, toweling off and getting dressed. The smell of coconut, of Adora, wafted off of her wet hair.

Catra shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts that rose in her mind. Adora, pressed up against a wall, with Catra’s nose buried deep in that blonde hair. Catra, holding Adora close and pressing kisses into her skin.

She pulled her hair back off of her face, hoping to dispel the thoughts.

Yeah, she had made a mistake.

* * *

It turned out that rich kids really liked McDonald’s, especially when their parents told them it was bad for them.

Glimmer, the pink-haired pitcher – or Sparkles, as Catra had taken to calling her – spent the entire car ride complaining about some new health craze her mom was on.

“Yeah, we’re not even allowed to have processed sugar in the house anymore!” She groaned, dramatically.

Ukulele boy – Catra still hadn’t figured out his name yet – gasped.

“That’s just cruel.”

“I _knoooooow_.”

Adora caught Catra’s eyes and smirked, rolling her own eyes conspirationally, as if to say _Look at these doofuses, aren’t they goofy_? Catra bit back a grin, opting instead for a smirk of her own. Adora blushed and looked back at Sparkles. Probably embarrassed by her friends trivial complaints, Catra figured. Either way, she looked adorable, bright red and hiding a smile. God, Catra loved her.

She winced and shoved that thought way deep down.

It was easier to deal with her feelings when Adora wasn’t being so damn cute. Still, Catra couldn’t help but melt anytime Adora did anything, whether it was singing along too loudly to shitty music or blushing when she realized her friends were being dumb. Catra was beginning to realize exactly how deep her feelings were, and the more she realized that, the more she realized how truly fucked she was.

Still, she couldn’t just walk away. Life without Adora was not better than life with her, even if life with her meant pining away after someone she couldn’t have.

Catra always ruined everything. That was really all she was good for. On the field, she ruined her team’s chances at winning. In her personal life, she ruined every friendship she had. Hell, when she had been born, her biological mom had almost died. She had almost ruined someone’s life by just existing.

Now, she was standing on the edge of ruining her friendship with Adora, her best and oldest friend.

“Hey,” Adora poked Catra’s stomach. “Don’t get all quiet and mopey on me.”

“I’m not mopey,” Catra sulked.

“Yeah, and I’m not the best catcher in the league.”

Catra rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face. She liked when Adora got cocky; it was cute.

* * *

McDonald’s with a bunch of rich kids was… a new experience for Catra. All of them ordered way too much food, took up way too much space at the bench seats, and made too much noise. Yet somehow, Catra found herself _enjoying_ the whole thing. Mustache guy was really funny, and stupidly obsessed with sea shanties. The girl with blue hair – appropriately named Mermista – was so dry, Catra couldn’t actually believe that she liked anyone, let alone Mustache. Perfuma, who lived up to the standard set by the hippie commune, was so sweet it gave Catra a toothache. Bow – the ukulele guy whose name was finally starting to stick for Catra – seemed to genuinely like Catra and was constantly asking her questions about what Adora had been like before joining the Rebels.

Sparkles, whose real name was Glimmer – a name so ridiculous, Catra couldn’t begin to fathom what her parents had been thinking – was the only one who didn’t seem completely sure of Catra. She was relatively quiet any time Catra spoke, and kept making strange faces at Adora, as if to ask _are you sure_?

For the most part, Catra ignored her. She had dealt with mean girls her whole life, and she had a feeling Glimmer could be dealt with in a similar manner. She had been the only person in the group who hadn’t hugged her back in Adora’s yard, and everything about her just kind of hinted that she didn’t like people who didn’t live up to her standards.

Everyone else seemed to like Catra well enough, though, and after a while, the conversation shifted over to Brightmoon gossip.

It was strange, having a completely objective view of high school drama. Catra had no emotional ties to anyone involved in the stories, save Adora, and everyone in the group seemed to really appreciate her opinion on what to do.

She told Perfuma that it didn’t matter if her crush attended a different school, she could still ask her out. Bow asked about her opinion on dealing with a teacher that had a history of targeting him in class, and she told him that if it were her, she’d call the teacher on his bullshit. Adora disagreed with her on that one. Even Sparkles appreciated when she said that the GSA on campus should be able to fundraise during school hours, just like all the other clubs.

They talked for a while, before the gossip switched fully into romance. Apparently, there was a dance coming up at Brightmoon, and not everyone had dates.

“Hey, Adora?” Sparkles asked around a mouthful of French fries.

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever ask that one girl out?”

Both Adora and Catra froze. Sparkles seemed to realize she had just made a mistake, and she gulped.

Adora looked at Catra as she spoke.

“No, I, uh, I didn’t get the chance to. I don’t think she’d be interested anyways.”

Catra kept staring at Adora, shock flooding into every corner of her being. Adora was frozen, eyes locked on Catra’s and filled with fear.

Mustache broke the tension.

“Well, I, for one, have already asked the beautiful Mermista to be my date.” The girl in question groaned.

Catra wasn’t able to concentrate on the conversation anymore. Adora was quiet herself, and after a while, the group decided it was probably time to head home.

The car ride was tense. Bow drove, and Sparkles sat shotgun, making quiet small talk. Adora was stone still, staring out the windows. The only part of her that showed her anxiety was her hands. She picked at her fingernails, pulling at hangnails. Catra watched her out of the corner of her eye. She was a mess herself, jiggling her foot and tapping her fingernails.

Adora wasn’t straight? Why hadn’t she ever told Catra? Granted, Catra hadn’t ever told Adora about herself either, but still. How had Catra not guessed it?

Adora had always been so perfect, so all-american. She was supposed to grow up and have the two-point-five-kids-and-a-white-picket-fence life. Catra was the one who was supposed to stuggle with the gay stuff.

How was she supposed to get over her feelings for her friend now, knowing that it wasn’t completely impossible?

Bow dropped the two of them off at Adora’s house, and Catra silently followed her friend inside. The silence was choking Catra, silencing her. She had a million questions. How long had Adora known? When had she figured it out? What was going on here?

Adora led them up to her room quietly, perching on the edge of her bed. She patted the blanket next to her, and Catra sat.

“So…” Adora started. “I should explain.”

Catra didn’t say anything.

“I’m, um, kind of… well, not kind of… I’m just. I don’t know how to start this.” She raised her hands pleadingly. Her eyes were shining, as if she were on the edge of tears. Catra took pity on her.

“Adora, are you gay?”

The floodgates opened, and Adora started crying. Catra threw her arms around the other girl, cradling her to her chest as Adora sobbed. The blonde girl clutched Catra’s arms, as if trying to bring her as close as possible. Catra rocked her friend back and forth, holding her tightly. After a while, Adora’s sobs hadn’t subsided, and Catra wasn’t sure how to help anymore. She let go of Adora, and climbed up the bed, laying back on the pillows. She opened her arms again, and Adora crawled into them, a fresh wave of tears spilling from her eyes.

Catra rocked the blonde girl gently, quietly humming in her ear. After a while, Adora’s sobs subsided into hiccups, and eventually into quiet breathing. She didn’t let go of Catra, though, and Catra selfishly took advantage of the situation. Here she was, holding the girl she loved close, rocking her back and forth, and Adora was holding her back. She was a terrible person for enjoying this.

Almost half an hour had passed with them in each other’s arms before Adora finally spoke. She didn’t lift her head from its place on Catra’s chest, instead burying her face deeper in Catra’s neck.

“You’re not… mad?” Adora croaked.

Catra could have laughed.

“Of course, I’m not mad, idiot. I’m just shocked.” Catra hesitated. “I, uh, don’t really get to be mad at you. It would be a little hypocritical.”

Adora froze. She lifted her head, shifting her weight until she was half leaning over Catra, staring down at her.

“What do you mean?”

Catra shifted her gaze away from Adora’s face.

“I, uh, think you know what I mean.”

“Catra…” Adora’s voice sounded funny. Guarded. “Are you gay?”

Catra nodded.

“ _Oh._ ” Adora breathed out.

“Yeah.”

“Catra…” Adora whispered, her hand reaching up to trace along Catra’s jawline, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Catra’s eyes wandered over Adora’s face, settling on her lips. Was it her imagination, or was Adora leaning closer?

A door slammed shut downstairs, and Adora jumped off of the bed.

“Hey, Adora dearie, I’m home!” Razz’s voice floated up the stairs. Catra looked at Adora. The blonde girl was furiously blushing.

“I’ll be there in a second!” She called out. She shot Catra an apologetic look. “I, uh, I gotta go help Razz with the groceries.”

Catra nodded.

“Yeah, I should, uh, probably head home.”

Adora nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the game?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Yeah, cool. Cool.”

The girls headed downstairs, saying their goodbyes at the front door.

It wasn’t until Catra was back in her own bed that the reality of the situation broke through her stupor.

What in the everliving _fuck_ had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like I said, I may not ever be a great slowburn writer, but I do enjoy teasing whoever reads my works so I'll take what I can get


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i were submitting this to a publisher, I'd probably rewrite it or even scrap it all together because it doesn't really do much for the story itself. However, y'all are nicer than publishers, and I figured you might appreciate the way this one ends. 
> 
> obligatory reminder that I haven't revised this work at all, so pls be nice.

Catra was not looking forward to the scrimmage today. It wasn’t because she was worried Coach Weaver was going to be too high strung, or because she was worried Scorpia was going to be too peppy. No, it was because of Adora. How in the hell was Catra supposed to successfully play a game against her best friend who she was pretty sure almost kissed her. It was bad enough having to bat while she was pissed at Adora, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do now that she was viscerally aware of the other girl’s presence at all times.

Warm-ups went by rather quickly and uneventfully. A few laps around the field, some throwing practice, and individual batting practice, the normal stuff.

Coach Weaver called out the batting order, opting for a few surprises but keeping everything else normal, for the most part. Kyle was first, since he had a small strike zone and was an easy walk. Lonnie was second because she had a wicked slap. Catra went third, since she was _usually_ a guaranteed hit. Scorpia, the buff beauty that she was, was fourth. Her strength and skill at bat usually resulted in a multiple-bag hit, if not a full homerun. And if the rest of them managed to load up the bases? An easy grand slam, assuming everyone fulfilled their role perfectly.

The Horde was technically the visiting team, since they were playing at Brightmoon’s complex, so they were first at bat. Catra nervously milled about in the dugout while Kyle lined up at the plate and Lonnie waited on deck. She tossed a tiny handful of seeds in her mouth, hoping to dispel the nervous energy she could feel tingling in her fingers.

“Hey, Wildcat.” Scorpia’s old nickname for Catra was a running joke between the two of them. Catra pretended to hate it, but really, she didn’t mind at all. Besides, without Adora here, Scorpia was the closest thing she had to a friend, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to jeopardize that by snapping over a dumb nickname.

“What’s up?” She opted to be polite instead.

“You okay? You seem a little jumpy.”

She nodded her head, her eyes locked on the shape of the catcher behind Kyle. The umpire showed the count. 2-0. So far, so good.

Scorpia followed Catra’s gaze, and grimaced.

“Are you gonna be okay out there today? I know she ticked you off last time, and it’s okay to be upset, but I gotta know if it’s something that’s gonna effect the team.”

“I’ll be fine.” The words themselves were rude, but Catra put no bite behind them. Scorpia was team captain, she would take a little bit of the fall if things went bad today.

“Alright, well, just keep me updated. And good luck out there.” Scorpia smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, no problem.”

The umpire announced a 3-0 count.

Sparkles was pitching for the Rebels again today, and the count was obviously frustrating her. She knelt to wipe her hand on the orange dirt. Maybe she should invest in a chalk bag or something. Softball dirt wasn’t exactly the greatest at sopping up sweat. Hell, Catra figured even having a rag in her back pocket would be better for sweat than scooping up the sand. Maybe she could make a suggestion to Adora…

She shook her head. She shouldn’t be helping the other team, even if Adora _was_ on it. Speaking of Adora, she signaled Sparkles, her hand fisted with two fingers pointing down, right between her legs.

Sparkles lined up on the mound, right foot forward. She rocked back, swinging her arms apart before whirling her right hand in a wide arc. The ball shot forward at an angle that would’ve been a strike on any normally proportioned human being, but not on Kyle. The kid had a weird body, and it worked to his advantage at the plate. The blue called a walk, and Kyle rolled his bat towards Lonnie before jogging to first. Catra made her way on deck, taking Kyle’s bat from Lonnie and holding it in her grip with her own bat, using the extra weight to warm up her practice swing.

Lonnie was up. She exchanged a few words with Adora, nothing that Catra could hear before lining up to the plate, at the very back of the batters’ box. Catra saw Adora flash a hand signal, two fingers pointed down. Fastball. Sparkles wound up and released, sending a perfect pitch down Lonnie’s way. Lonnie stepped through her swing, slapping the ball perfectly, aiming it right between the second baseman and the right fielder.

Catra tossed Kyle’s bat towards the dugout and made her way to the plate, leaving Scorpia to deal with Lonnie’s discarded bat. She held up her right hand to the blue and smirked at Adora.

“Hey, princess.” It was easier to be catty than it was to be vulnerable right now. Adora flushed behind her catcher’s mask.

“You know we’re called the Rebels. Calling us princesses is just blatant bullying.”

“Aw, you know you like it.”

Adora flushed harder.

Catra kept her right hand up as she tapped her bat against the two corners of the plate, lining herself up. She twirled her bat up onto her shoulder and readied herself. She glanced at Adora’s hands just in time to catch the signal. Two fingers pointed down. Fastball. Fantastic.

Sparkles wound up, a menacing smile on her face, and sent a pitch speeding down the way. Catra let it pass. It was too low.

“Strike!” The blue called.

“What?!”

“Hey, Catra, you gotta swing at strikes if you don’t want them on your count.”

“Shut up, princess.”

Coach Weaver yelled at her from her perch by third base.

“Catra!”

Catra held up a hand, stepping out of the box. Adora tossed the ball back to Sparkles.

Coach Weaver beckoned her over.

“Do _not_ let yourself get distracted.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Good, now get back over there. Style four.”

 _Style four? Oh come on_. Catra thought to herself. How insulting. Weaver really could have just said _I don’t trust you to get in a hit while you’re distracted by Adora_ but instead, she had to obfuscate and tell Catra to bunt instead. Catra was seething.

She stepped into the box, hand up. Tapped the two points of the plate, lining herself up a little closer to the pitcher than usual. She choked up slightly on her bat grip, and twirled it onto her shoulders. Adora flashed a hand signal. One finger pointed down. Was she signaling for a changeup?

Did Adora just… help her?

The pitch came in, slow and high. Definitely a change up. Catra slid her right hand up the bat until it rested against the fat portion of the metal and held the bat in front of her. The pitch connected with the bat and dropped in between Sparkles and Adora. Catra dropped her bat and ran.

She touched first base milliseconds before the baseman caught the ball.

Adora _had_ just helped her. She had seen Catra stance change, even if she hadn’t seen what play Weaver had called.

Had Adora helped her out of pity, or because of what had happened yesterday? What had _almost_ happened yesterday.

Catra blew her bangs out of her face in frustration. Why was everything with Adora so confusing?

* * *

Hordak won the scrimmage, thanks in part to Adora helping Catra load the bases, but mostly because of Scorpia’s incredible hit that churned out a grand slam.

The more Catra thought about that changeup signal, the more confused she got. Why did Adora do that? The two of them had been playing softball together since they were in little league, of course Adora knew Catra’s bunt stance in the same way Catra knew Adora’s.

Her confusion didn’t lessen when, after the game, Adora caught Catra on her way back to her bike.

“Hey, Catra,” Adora looked beautiful, her hair tied up in the long blonde braid she reserved for sports. There were curlicues sticking out in every direction and her face was bright red from exertion and sun. She was covered in a thick layer of grime, sweat, and red dirt stains. Her bright white uniform was almost entirely reddish-orange from all of the tussling she had done over the plate and all the sliding she had done when base running.

“Hey, Adora.” Even if she was a little confused – and maybe a tiny bit irritated – by the whole changeup incident earlier, she still had trouble keeping a smile from stealing across her face.

Adora herself had a shy smile, something Catra wasn’t used to seeing on her. She was usually a much more bold, wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve type, not the shy smiles and gentle giggles type.

“So, some of us were gonna go get food after this. Wanna come along?”

Catra considered this. On one hand, of course she wanted to spend some more time with Adora. On the other, she wasn’t so sure spending time with her school’s rival team immediately after playing a game against them, even if her team had come out victorious.

“I mean, it’s probably not the greatest idea… Weaver might see me.”

“Oh,” Adora frowned a little before smiling brightly, “That’s no big deal! If you bike around the corner, Bow can pick you up. He’s even got a rack on his car for your bike! Besides, I think Perfuma really wants an excuse to show off her new girlfriend. You’re never gonna guess who it is.”

“Who?”

“Scorpia.”

Catra’s jaw dropped.

“That little… Is that who she meant when she said she had a crush on someone from another school?”

Adora nodded, laughing.

“Yeah, it surprised me, too. Not that they’re a bad couple or anything, I just wasn’t expecting Perfuma to have a thing for someone from Hordak.”

“What’s wrong with Hordak?” Anger flashed in Catra’s voice.

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” Adora’s voice was calm, desperately trying to placate Catra. “I just meant that Perfuma is pretty zen and Scorpia is pretty high energy. Most people in the Horde are.”

“So,” Catra began, her voice cold. “Let me get this straight. You got a fancy, full-ride scholarship to a fancy school with a fancy team, and now all of a sudden you’re too good for us? Am I too ‘high-energy’ for you?”

Adora eyes were wide.

“No, Catra, I’m serious. That’s not how I meant it.”

“That’s how it sounded. You think you’re too good for us.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then w- why,” Catra’s voice cracked. She didn’t even know why she was so out of control right now. Maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping through her from the game. Maybe it was her confusion over what was going on between her and Adora. Maybe she had just finally hit her breaking point over the whole transfer thing. Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop the words from flowing.

“Why did you leave me behind? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” Tears were welling in her eyes, and she rubbed them with a dirty hand.

“Why was I not good enough for you to stay?”

There it was. The real reason she was so hurt by Adora’s transfer.

Adora had a broken expression on her face. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide and glassy.

“I’m… _sorry_.” She whispered, voice cracking. “I made a mistake. I just didn’t know how to tell you I got the scholarship.”

“You mean, you didn’t care enough to tell me.” Catra snarled. “Whatever, _princess,_ I’m out of here.”

With that, Catra swung her leg over her bike, leaving a crying Adora behind her.

* * *

Catra was lying in her bed, debating whether or not she wanted to go downstairs and grab a snack. Things were so confusing. One minute, she and Adora are coming out to each other, hold each other close and maybe almost kissing. The next? Catra finally lets the floodgates burst and takes out all of her anger on the girl she’s in love with.

Fucking hell, Coach Weaver wasn’t lying when she said Catra wasn’t capable of doing anything right. That was depressing.

It had been a few hours since she had left Adora behind at the field. A few hours since she had biked away from the sound of Adora shouting her name.

A few hours since she admitted exactly how much Adora had hurt her.

Something tapped on her window.

She put a pillow over her head and screamed.

The tapping noise came again. Probably some neighborhood kids pulling a prank.

She kept the pillow firmly on her face, hoping it would be enough to keep her from losing her shit over the annoying tapping sound.

Tap.

The last thing she needed to do right now was murder a kid.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Catra screamed, pulling the pillow off of her face. She jumped out of bed and stalked to the window, throwing it open. From the second floor, it was hard to see the figure standing on the street.

“What the _fuck_ do you want?” she growled.

Adora’s awkward cough answered her. She slammed the window shut.

Tap.

Catra opened the window again.

“Would you fucking _stop it_?”

“Not until you talk to me. Can I come up?”

Catra groaned, rubbing a hand over her eyes. She debated internally.

On one hand, this was a conversation they needed to have. It was the one she had set her mind on a few days before, and it was only mature to go ahead and follow through with that.

On the other hand, there was a good chance she was about to scare Adora away for good.

Well, better sooner than later. Besides, she had expected to get hurt by Adora again anyways.

She just hadn’t realized it would be this soon.

“Fine. Front door’s unlocked.”

Adora didn’t respond. Instead, the front door creaked open, and Catra heard Adora’s slow footsteps through the house as she made her way upstairs. She peeked her head through Catra’s door, shy, eyes on the floor.

“Come on, we can sit on the bed.” Catra said softly. She was worried that she’d scare Adora off if she spoke too loudly.

They sat in silence. The seconds stretched into minutes. Adora picked at her fingernails. Catra stared at her.

Catra huffed a sigh and laid down on the bed. Adora glanced at her before slowly lowering her body until she was laying down too. Catra flipped on her side. Adora mirrored her.

They stared at each other.

Catra was still angry. She was hurt. She was upset and felt like she had been betrayed, and their conversation earlier had brought all of those buried feelings to the surface.

Still… she couldn’t deny the electricity crackling through her body. Adora was so close. Catra could reach out and touch her, stroke her face the way Adora had touched hers the day before. She flexed her fingers to suppress the surprisingly strong impulse to reach out and brush away the baby hairs falling into Adora’s eyes.

“So.” Whispered Adora.

“So.” Catra replied just as softly.

“I think I need to tell you some things.”

Catra scoffed quietly.

“No, I’m serious. I have a lot to explain. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. Nothing I say can excuse my actions, but… I’m hoping you’ll at least let me tell you what happened?” Adora’s voice tilted into a hesitant question, as if she were scared that Catra was going to snap at any moment.

Catra cringed, a lock of hair falling into her eyes. Adora reached up a hesitant hand, freezing momentarily before brushing the hair away and tucking it behind Catra’s ear. Her hand rested on Catra’s face.

Blood pounded through Catra’s body. Where Adora was touching her, sparks tingled her skin. Why hadn’t touching Adora always felt like this? When they were kids, wrestling didn’t send Catra into a full-blown heart attack. Softball base-running and sliding practices had never made Catra’s heart skip when Adora tagged her. Long summer days at the river, playing minnows and sharks had never made Catra feel like she was going to evaporate on the spot. Why now?

What had changed?

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in through her nose.

“Catra, can I… can I please explain?

Catra nodded, not opening her eyes. The friction of Adora’s hand on her face sent bolts of electricity down her spine that only got worse when Adora began methodically rubbing a thumb over her cheek. Catra suppressed a groan.

This girl was going to be the death of her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone here a fan of forced plot devices to introduce angst? Because I'm a slut for them. Literally love them so much. Anyways, here's some angst. The real question is: does this qualify as hurt/comfort now? 
> 
> blood/injury tw

Sharing a bed had never been unusual for Catra and Adora. They had always been close, not shying away from physical affection. When they were kids, they’d hold hands as they played with the other neighborhood kids, running and jumping down the street together. As they got older, and touch began to take on a different meaning for their peers, they shrugged off the strange glances they got when they walked hand-in-hand through Hordak’s hallways. It didn’t really matter what the other kids thought – all that mattered was that they had each other.

Touch had always been a way for Adora to ground Catra. When she got particularly heated, Catra could count on Adora gripping her shoulder and telling her to breathe. When Adora was upset, it was only natural for Catra to wrap her arms around the girl, even if that wasn’t a natural act for her around anyone else.

Yeah, touch wasn’t that abnormal between the two of them.

So… why was Adora’s hand on her cheek making her heart race and her hands shake? Why was her breathing suddenly shallow?

Adora’s blue eyes were on hers, as if waiting for some kind of response from Catra.

“Alright,” Catra’s voice was hoarse. “You wanna explain?”

Adora took in a shaky breath, her eyes searching Catra’s face.

“I found out about the scholarship a few months ago. I wanted to tell you then, but I wasn’t sure if I’d even be eligible, let alone actually get it.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I know,” Adora’s hand was warm. Catra reached up and covered it with her own.

“You hurt me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Adora sighed.

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me. I knew you’d be hurt if I told you I was considering transferring.”

“I got hurt anyways. You came out of it fine.”

Adora squeezed her eyes shut.

“I know. I made a mistake. I should have told you what I was planning.”

“No kidding.” Catra felt tired. She wasn’t angry anymore, just tired of fighting. She slid her hand off of Adora’s, and wrapped her arm around the other girl’s waist, pulling her close. Adora tucked her head against Catra’s neck, tickling her with her breath.

They lay there silently in each other’s arms for what felt like forever. Catra tried not to let her mind wander, but it was no use. She buried her face in Adora’s blonde hair, letting the smell of coconut wash over her. Images flashed through her brain, things she wished could happen but knew she could never have. Her and Adora dancing at prom together, sharing kisses over diner milkshakes, holding hands and walking home after scrimmage games, getting a college apartment together some day.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hyperfocusing on the girl in her arms. She needed to be thankful for what she had, not pine for what she could never get.

“Do you… Do you think you could ever forgive me?” Adora whispered.

“Of course, I could.” Catra couldn’t stop herself from saying. It was true, though. Adora could completely destroy Catra’s life if she wanted, and Catra was completely incapable of stopping her. Adora was Catra’s weakness, her only vulnerability. She had grown up tough, scared of being abandoned. Adora had been the only one she trusted not to hurt her.

Adora still hadn’t really explained why she had made the decision to leave Catra behind. She had only apologized for what she had done. Catra really didn’t care anymore. It didn’t really matter all that much anyways.

All that mattered was that they were here, together.

Adora leaned back out of Catra’s arms, a strange look on her face.

“Hey, Catra?” She said, hesitantly.

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering… Brightmoon has a dance in a few weeks, and now that you don’t outright hate me anymore, maybe you could go as my plus one?”

Brightmoon was pretentious. Catra cringed. The thought of attending a dance surrounded by rich assholes and all of their egos did not sound fun.

On the other hand, it would be a good chance to see Adora all dressed up.

“Deal.”

* * *

Practice was rough. Coach Weaver didn’t seem to care that they had won the scrimmage, instead opting to drill them on fundamentals for hours. Even Scorpia seemed to sag under the weight of Weaver’s angry glares. Catra wasn’t sure what had crawled up the old bitch’s ass and died, but she wished Weaver would just back off already.

She was really distracted today. She kept replaying her conversation with Adora over and over in her head. The way her fingers had traced over Catra’s cheek, the way her blue eyes sparkled when Catra greed to go with her to the dance, the scar on her jaw from when Catra had accidentally cleated her in the face at a practice so many years ago.

Catra felt a sharp pain in her ribs as a softball slammed into her.

“Catra, how many times do I have to tell you to _pay attention during practice_?” Weaver shouted, waving her bat.

Catra shrugged, grabbing the ball and tossing it to Kyle on first.

Weaver shot another ball right at her, barely giving her enough reaction time. She snapped her glove up just as the ball was about to hit her. The contact stung even through the thick leather of her glove.

“Hey!’ Catra called. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Excuse me?” Weaver’s voice was deadly.

“I said ‘are you trying to kill me?’. That hit was crazy hard.”

Weaver didn’t respond. She simply sent another ball hurtling toward Catra.

Catra caught it, her hand burning.

“Young lady, you need to learn to mind your mouth. You’re not exactly the best player on the team. It’s very arrogant of you to think I won’t bench you for the rest of the season.”

“What are you talking about? I’m the best short stop you have!”

“You’re barely passable. The only reason you’re on first string is because I’d rather have a junior than a freshman on the field. Don’t test me.”

Catra gritted her teeth and squatted back down into position.

Weaver sent another ball flying right at her.

Yeah, Catra wished practice would end already.

* * *

She passed by Adora’s commune on the way to her own house, idly wondering why all of these rich kids were so obsessed with Adora’s middle class suburban home.

“Hey, Catra!” Adora called out, waving. Catra angled her bike over towards the blonde girl. She could spare a few minutes to talk.

“Hey, Adora, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, just missed you today, that’s all.”

Did Adora know how those words sent electric tingles down Catra’s spine?

“Psh, I’m sure you were just fine without me.”

“No, I’m serious! We were doing conditioning practice this morning,” Adora shuddered, “and I just always enjoy running more when you’re there with me.”

“That’s cool. Weaver tried to murder me today.”

“She did what?!”

Catra explained what had gone down at practice, leaving out the insults Weaver had slung at her.

“She seriously treats you bad, Catra.”

Catra shrugged.

“Not any different than every other coach.”

“That’s not true.”

Catra blinked.

“What?”

Adora rubbed her neck.

“I mean, Coach Angella – she’s the coach for the Rebels – she’s actually super nice. Like, you know how Weaver always used to hand out laps as a punishment for disagreeing with her? Angella actually has a box where we can anonymously leave notes to tell her when we disagree with something she did. Plus, she actually reads them. A few weeks ago, someone said they didn’t like how Angella wasn’t fairly accounting for how some people suck at long distance running, so she changed up her conditioning program. Today was our first day trying it out and it went really well.”

Catra was surprised. Coach Weaver wasn’t normal? Like, the insults she spat at her players when they didn’t do exactly as she said weren’t how most coaches responded?

No, there was no way. Adora’s coach had to be the weird one.

“Sounds like she’s too soft on you guys.” Catra said. “Either way, I gotta shower. Maybe we can hang out afterwards?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. We were gonna go get some food later, too, if you wanna come with? Do you just wanna use my shower?”

Catra debated internally for a second before remembering what had happened last time she had used Adora’s shampoo.

“No, I’m okay, I need to put my uniform in the washer for tomorrow. Where are you guys going for food?”

“Oh, there’s this new trippy coffee shop restaurant place that Glimmer’s aunt just opened. It’s called Mystacor. It’s supposed to be super expensive or something, but Glimmer says we can get free food.”

“Free food is my favorite food, and it’s always better with my favorite person,” Catra smirked, teasing.

Adora’s eyes widened, and she blushed.

“Yeah, um, okay. So – uh. Wanna come back over in thirty so we can head out?”

Catra was confused by the blonde girls awkward response, but she quietly nodded anyways.

Did she just make Adora blush?

* * *

Ukulele Guy drove again. Catra knew his name was Bow, kind of like how she knew Sparkles was actually Glimmer. She just thought Ukulele Guy and Sparkles were much funnier.

Adora and Catra sat together in the back seat, Sparkles was sitting shot gun. Adora was giggling at something dumb one of the other kids had said. Catra was watching her.

Sunlight filtered in through the windows, catching the strands of Adora’s hair and turning them into pure gold. Her blue eyes glittered in the sun, crinkled with laughter. She had a wide smile, with her full top lip and not-quite-as-full bottom lip curled up in the corners. Freckles dotted her cheeks, forming constellations across her nose.

Catra knew she was smiling, too. She couldn’t help it. Adora happiness made her happy as well.

There was music spilling from the speakers, mixed in with the laughter in the car. Something light and airy.

Then, the world shifted.

Catra’s world turned upside down. She felt weightless.

A loud noise echoed through her mind, hurting her ears.

Somewhere, she could hear screaming.

The sound of music floated over her. What song was that?

Her vision went black.

A sharp pain cracked through her head. Another ricocheted up her leg.

Someone screamed.

Distantly, she realized it was her.

* * *

Lights flashed in her eyes.

“We’re gonna have to get her to the OR. Do you know how to contact her guardians?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Is she gonna be okay?” Catra knew that voice.

“I can’t make any guarantees. She’s had the worst injuries out of y’all, and I’m really concerned about the head trauma. We’re really not going to know much until after she gets out of surgery, and even then, it’s just a guessing game.”

“Okay. Um, do you want her parents’ phone number? Or should I call them?” There was that voice again. Catra grasped for the name. Adora. That was Adora.

She tried to grab for Adora with her hands, tried to call her name, but all that escaped was a whine.

“Catra?!” Adora’s voice was panicked. “Catra, I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”

A warm hand slipped into Catra’s.

“It’s okay, I can talk to your girlfriend’s parents if you can give me their numbers. You should probably try and reach out to them, too. Sometimes, the more people who call, the easier they are to reach.”

Pain shot up Catra’s leg as she tried to adjust herself in bed. Her head hurt like hell, and the whole right side of her body was on fucking fire.

“It’s okay, Catra. It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay.” Adora crooned, tracing a hand along Catra’s face. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“What… happened?” Catra rasped out. Fuck, even her lungs hurt.

“Some trucker T-boned us. You were the first one to get hit. The asshole was drunk. Drove through a red light. Everyone’s okay. We’re all alive.”

“They said…” Catra was breathing hard. “They said I need surgery.”

Adora’s hands tightened.

“Yeah, you’re banged up pretty bad. Can you open your eyes at all?”

Catra tried, squinting. Light stabbed her brain, and she quickly closed her eyes again. Dark was much better.

Adora sighed.

“Yeah, I figured. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.”

“At least your sense of humor is intact.” Adora sounded disapproving, but her body relaxed a little at Catra’s joke.

“When I saw you just laying there…” Adora’s voice wavered. “I thought you were dead. I was so scared. The EMTs wouldn’t let me get close to you. I was screaming at them, begging them to let me help you, but they just held me down. I was terrified.”

“Hey,” Catra croaked. “I’m alive, aren’t I? We both are.”

“Yeah,” Adora’s voice cracked. “Barely.”

Catra’s arm screamed when she moved it, but she blindly swung it up around Adora’s shoulders anyways, pulling the girl down onto the bed with her. She almost screamed when she shifted her hips, and the intense pain made her see stars.

Adora slipped her arm under Catra’s head, pulling her into her embrace. Catra buried her nose in the Crook of Adora’s neck, taking in the smell of sweat and coconut and _Adora_.

Adora was breathing in a stuttered, shuddering pattern, and it took Catra a few moments to realize the blonde girl was crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Shh, it’s okay.” She soothed.

“I thought…” Adora’s voice sounded wrecked. “I thought you were dead. You were just laying there, covered in blood. You didn’t even look like you were breathing.” A sob rocked through her body.

Catra couldn’t say anything. She didn’t know how she would feel if the roles had been reversed. If Adora had been laying there in a wrecked car, bleeding out. Granted, Catra was in love with Adora, and Adora only saw Catra as a best friend, so that may have made things a little different. Still, she couldn’t imagine what had been going through Adora’s mind.

Adora’s phone rang, sending a knife through Catra’s skull.

“Sorry.” Adora sniffled, rolling over to retrieve the evil device. “It’s just Bow and Glimmer. They’re worried about you.”

“How are they?”

“They’re fine. Glimmer got a few cuts and bruises, but Bow came out unscathed. He feels horrible about what happened.”

“He shouldn’t. It’s not his fault that asshole was driving drunk.”

Adora snorted.

“I’ll let him know you said so. He didn’t believe me when I said you wouldn’t blame him.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Catra winced.

“Hi, how’s she doing?”

“ _She’s_ fine.” Catra gritted out.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. That’s a really good sign. Is it okay if I go over your treatment plan with you?”

Catra grimaced. Adora stepped up.

“Yeah, doc, that’s fine.”

“Great. So, unfortunately, those CT scans did reveal a brain bleed, like what we were talking about earlier.”

Adora gasped.

“It’s small, but obviously it needs to be dealt with right away. The orthopedic surgeon also took a look at those X-RAYS we took, and she wants to set up some external traction on your femur. A couple of external screws just to help it set. Your arm is an easy job, it just needs to be set and then you can go home with a regular cast. We’ll get your parents set-up with all of the follow-up info when they get here. Normally, if it weren’t for the brain stuff, we’d wait ‘til they got here, but this is a serious situation and we need to behind the operation as soon as possible.”

Beside her, Adora was frozen.

“Is it okay if we go ahead and start getting you prepped for surgery? I don’t think you’re capable of filling out the paperwork, but that’s okay. Your parents can do it when they get here.”

Catra nodded weakly, sending shooting pains up her neck. She wondered if she had some mild whiplash as well.

“Okay, I’ll have a nurse come in here as soon as possible, and they’ll wheel you up to pre-op.”

The door opened and closed, and Catra and Adora were alone again.

“Jesus,” Catra whispered, hoping to distract Adora from crying again. “How’d they manage to get all of those scans taken of me that quickly?”

“Catra, we’ve been here for five hours. You were unconscious through all of that. The doctors were worried you weren’t going to wake up.”

Wow, hours. Catra played through the conversations she had heard since she woke up. Something struck her.

“Hey, did the doctor call me your ‘girlfriend’?”

Adora groaned.

“Leave it to you to find a way to tease me even when your brain is literally bleeding.”

Catra smirked.

“He totally called me your girlfriend! Why?”

Adora shrugged under Catra’s head.

“They wouldn’t let me back here unless we were relatives. I managed to convince them that without your parents here, your girlfriend was going to be the best way of getting a medical history.”

“And you didn’t think to just say we were best friends since childhood? You had to go with girlfriends?”

Catra could feel Adora’s blush from where she was laying.

“Shut up! I was just trying to do what was best for you.”

“Whatever, you totally like me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“No, Catra, I’m serious. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything to help you. Even lie to your doctor about being your girlfriend so I could stay by your side in the hospital. I do like you. That’s the whole point of being best friends.”

Catra considered that. Adora had always been a lot more open about her emotions than Catra. While Catra preferred sarcasm and humor as a shield, Adora owned up to her feelings and was completely comfortable with being vulnerable.

Maybe it was the brain bleed, but suddenly Catra wanted to live life on the edge, too.

“I like you, too.”

“Bull.”

“No, Adora, I really do. I like you more than you like me.” Catra’s voice wavered.

“What does that mean?”

Catra lifted her head, ignoring the pain shooting down her neck. She cracked her eyes open, looking down at Adora.

“It means ‘I love you’, you idiot.”

Holy shit, did Catra really just say that? Brain bleeds must make people stupid and mushy or something because normal Catra would not have ever admitted that in a million years.

Adora’s eyes widened, mouth falling open. She gaped at Catra for a second before a sad looked passed over her face.

“Yeah, I love you, too. Best friends forever and all that.”

It was a way out. A way for Catra to pretend she hadn’t just admitted to being in love with her best friend. If Catra were smart, she’d take it.

Catra wasn’t smart. She leaned forward, squinted eyes focused on Adora’s lips. Adora held her breath. Catra was really going to do this. This was really going to happen.

Pain shot up Catra’s leg, and she cried out, falling limply onto Adora’s chest.

“Catra?! Catra, are you okay?”

Catra couldn’t talk over the pain. Her head was spinning, and the inky blackness she had woken up from was threatening to pull her back down into it. She focused on her breathing.

Somewhere behind her, a machine started beeping desperately.

“Catra!”

Catra knew she was crying. She could feel the wetness streaming down her face, but she had no way of controlling it.

Before she knew it, the darkness spun up around her, and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest chapter of this story, and also the longest thing I've ever written and posted online. This beats my previous ff.net record.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fic is turning into a really good example of why I like to plot out my stories before I actually write them because... just going with the flow is turning into me having to fight through possible plot holes and just not catching them all. Anyways, I may end up writing a follow-up piece from Adora's perspective just for the sake of patching some stuff up.

Catra knew she was stoned the moment she woke up. Everything was soft, the light streaming in from the hallway, the blanket across her chest, even the weird weight on her right hand and leg didn’t bother her much.

There was a machine nearby that beeped and hissed every few seconds, in time with her breathing. She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest rose and fell in time with the hissing machine. Oh well. She melted back into the bed.

There was a strange pressure in her chest, like there was something about to burst out of it. She would think about it tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to float through time and space.

Something stirred next to her. She blinked and tried to twist her neck to see what was moving, but the pressure in her chest moved into her throat. All right. She’d just lay here, then. Let whatever it was come to her.

Adora moved into view.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Catra shrugged, a weird movement that felt floppy and loose.

Adora’s face was blurry.

“Your parents went home for the night. They needed to get in contact with Hordak High and let them know what was going on. They’ll be back in the morning.”

Catra blinked slowly.

“The doctors want to keep you here for a few days. Something about ‘post-surgical monitoring of a subdural hematoma’ or something like that. They’ve got you intubated for a few days, too.”

That must be the pressure in Catra’s chest.

Her mind felt like it was swimming through a bowl of honey, her thoughts slow to collect and form.

Catra felt a pressure slip into her good hand. At least she hadn’t broken that one. Thank goodness she was a lefty. She squeezed. Adora’s hand was in her own.

“I was so scared, Catra. One second you were fine, and the next second, you were screaming.”

Catra’s eyes lazily made their way over Adora’s face. She looked worried. Her brow was furrowed. Hmm. Catra should say something.

She tried to talk, but the tube in her throat choked her.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I know.”

Through the haze of drugs, Catra felt her heart flutter.

Memories came flooding back.

She had told Adora she loved her. She had almost kissed her.

Her eyes met Adora’s. Adora smiled sadly.

“I love you, too.”

If it weren’t for the beeping of the machine monitoring her pulse, Catra would have been fully convinced that her heart had stopped.

“I was so scared I was gonna lose you.”

The machine pumping air into her lungs was the only reason Catra could breathe.

“And I swear, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I never lose you. You’re my best friend.”

Catra’s heart sank.

Of course, Adora only loved her as a friend. Why would she ever want her as anything more?

The PA system crackled to life.

“Attention, all visitors and guests: visiting hours are now over. Please make your way out of the ward as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Adora smiled softly at Catra.

“Hey, don’t look so sad. I’ll be back tomorrow after school. Besides, I think you’re parents are going to come back tomorrow morning and spend the day with you.”

Adora leaned over Catra and kissed her forehead. Catra’s eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, her hand squeezing Adora’s tight.

“Don’t miss me too much. It’ll go straight to my head.”

With a wave, Adora picked up her bag and was out the door without a second glance.

Catra couldn’t hold back her tears. They leaked out of her eyes, flowing quietly down her face. The hissing of her breathing machine and the beeping of her heart rate monitor set a strange beat that somehow fit the empty feeling in her chest.

Did Adora not realize what she was doing to Catra? Did she not realize how Catra’s heart skipped a beat when Adora called her pet names? Did she not see the way Catra’s body reacted when Adora touched her?

Did she not feel the same electric sparks Catra did?

That had to be the only explanation. She must have not known what she was doing to Catra’s emotions.

A knock sounded at the door, and a nurse made her way into the room.

“Hey, hon, it’s time for your pain meds.” She held up a syringe with no needle. “I’m just gonna go ahead and slip these into your IV for you. You feeling okay?”

Catra nodded around her throat tube.

“Great.” The nurse’s hands were as soft as her voice, and she deftly screwed the syringe onto a port hooked into Catra’s arms. “This is gonna make you feel a little bit sleepy, okay? Don’t try to fight it. Your body has been through a lot and you need as much rest as you can get. Can you do that for me?”

Catra could already feel the drowsiness snaking up her spine. She felt the cold medication shoot through her arm before the sensation was replaced by a pleasant numbness. Her eyelids drooped.

“Good, just like that. Go ahead and relax. You’re okay.”

Catra’s eyes closed, and she fell asleep without dreams.

* * *

Catra hated hospitals.

They were always too clean and they smelled like weird hospital sanitizers and there was never any quiet or darkness. Most of the staff seemed nice enough, though, so she couldn’t complain too much. She never had the same doctor twice, though, and it could make things a little confusing sometimes.

They removed her breathing tube about halfway through the next day.

It was an awful procedure, and she coughed and gagged for about ten minutes afterwards. Breathing hurt like hell, especially without the assistance of the breathing tube. Now, though, her throat felt bruised and sore, and talking was not a pleasant experience. She mostly answered the doctor’s questions with nods and head shakes.

 _How are you feeling this morning?_ A shrug was adequate.

 _Do you need some more pain medicine?_ She shook her head. No more of that stuff. She didn’t need to sleep for a week – she needed to go home.

 _Would you like to try eating something?_ A head shake.

 _How about some soup? It’s that, or we put a feeding tube down your throat._ A reluctant head nod.

Her parents floated in and out of her room throughout the day, more considered about health insurance stuff than on Catra herself.

Her dad did bring her sketchbook, though, so at least she had _something_ to distract herself with.

She mostly drew pictures of Adora. It was probably objectively a little creepy, and she definitely did not plan on showing her friend the sketches anytime soon, but it gave her something to focus on. Adora laughing in the backseat of a car, happy tears in her eyes. Adora lined up at bat, mid-swing. Adora lounging in her front yard with the hippie commune.

She spent hours drawing, thankful for the use of her dominant hand. Her injuries could have been so much worse. Granted, she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror yet, so she had no real idea what she looked like. Judging by the bandages wrapping around her head, she was pretty sure her brain surgery had been kind of intense, and she really wasn’t looking forward to seeing how much of her hair the doctors had shaved off. Her right leg was entirely encased in a white fiberglass cast, with a strange contraption full of screws placed near her hip. Her right arm was also in a white cast, covering her hand and forearm, ending at the elbow. A goofy sharpie drawing of a smiley face with heart eyes was on the inside wrist, along with Adora’s signature. Catra’s heart fluttered every time she looked at it.

She couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of her school year was going to look like. She probably wasn’t going to be able to go to school for a few weeks, at least. She certainly wouldn’t be able to play softball –

Her hand froze over her drawing.

Was she ever going to be able to play again?

She couldn’t _not_ play. She loved the game too much. It gave her something to focus on, something to work around. God, what was Coach Weaver going to say? Was she going to somehow find a way to blame all of this on Catra? Even though she hadn’t been the one driving?

Her thoughts stalled for a moment when Adora breezed into her room.

“Hey, Catra!” She seemed extra cheery today.

“Mmph,” Catra groaned, closing her sketchbook.

“You look chipper…”

“No,” Catra coughed, “I do not.”

“Alright fine, you look like a woodchipper got to you. Better?”

“Much.” They lapsed into silence.

“Adora…” Catra started hesitantly.

“What’s up?” The blonde girl swung a bag up onto Catra’s bed and started rifling through it.

“Um…” Catra wasn’t sure how to phrase her question. “How do I look… really?”

Adora’s eyes flicked up to Catra’s face, her brow furrowing slightly.

“It’s just,” Catra stammered, “I haven’t really been able to get out of bed to look at myself in a few days and I’m starting to wonder and now you say I look like I’ve been woodchipped and I-“

“Catra, it’s alright,” Adora interrupted her.

The blonde girl pulled her phone out of her back pocket and held it up, snapping a quick picture of Catra. She made her way up Catra’s bedside, perching on the edge of the mattress and held out her phone.

The picture of Catra was a mess.

Her face was so bruised, she could hardly tell it was her. Scratches laced up and down her neck, and a huge gash through her eyebrow had been stitched closed. She looked tiny in the bed. Fragile.

“You already look better than you did,” Adora said, unhelpfully.

“Thanks.” Catra grumped, pushing the phone away.

“For real, though, you do. The bruising has gone down, and there’s way less swelling.”

Catra didn’t respond. Her fingers itched to start sketching again. Anything to put the image of her in her hospital gown out of her mind.

“I, uh, I have a few pictures from that night. If you want to see them.”

“They aren’t of me, are they?”

Adora rubbed the back of her neck.

“There’s a few, but we can skip over those if you want.”

Catra debated internally. On one hand, she really didn’t want to look at them. On the other hand, she should probably know what exactly had happened to her.

She nodded.

Adora pulled her phone back out, swiping through pictures. The first one she showed Catra was of the car itself. The SUV had obviously rolled, with dents all along the sides and roof of the car. One of the doors was caved in. That was where Catra had been sitting.

There were a few more images of the car, all at different angles.

“It’s insane that I’m the only one who got hurt,” Catra said before she could stop herself.

Adora’s face soured.

“It’s because you were the only one not wearing a seatbelt, idiot.”

“Oh.”

They kept scrolling. There were pictures documenting what the trucker’s eighteen-wheeler had looked like afterwards, but it hadn’t sustained much damage, so they whizzed through those. A few pictures detailed Bow and Sparkles’ various cuts and bruises, but then Adora got to the pictures of Catra.

She had managed to snag a shot of Catra as the window was pried off of the car. Catra was lying on the roof of the upside-down car, her leg bent at a strange angle. Blood was everyone, covering her face and chest. Her eyes were half-lidded and zoned out.

Catra pushed the phone away. She changed her mind.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure, um… Oh! I had Perfuma talk to Scorpia, and she’s agreed to pick up some of your schoolwork for you!”

Catra rolled her eyes.

“How about something other than school work?”

Adora laughed.

“Fine, lazy bum. Leave it to you to almost die in a car accident as an excuse to not have to think about class.”

Catra smiled, her fingers playing with the edges of her sketchbook.

“You can sketch if you want to.” Adora said softly. “I have some schoolwork that _I_ wasn’t excused from.”

“It’s not gonna bug you?”

“’Course not.”

Catra flipped her sketchbook open to a clean page and started sketching absentmindedly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Adora bent over her school work. The blonde girl’s lips were pursed in concentration as she made her way through whatever assignment her teacher had given her.

Catra sketched a set of pursed lips.

Adora rubbed a hand over her eyes.

Catra sketched a set of hands on another part of her paper.

Adora sighed in frustration.

“I hate biology!” she exclaimed. She swiveled her head, eyes focusing on Catra’s sketchbook.

“Can I pleeeease see what you’re drawing?” Her lower lip pouted out.

“Absolutely not.”

“Pleeeeeease, Catra? It’s gotta be a million times more interesting than Punnett squares.”

Catra would argue that drawing Adora was infinitely more interesting than Punnett squares.

“Nope.”

“Uggghhhhhhhhhh, fine,”

On the table next to the bed, Catra’s phone rang. She picked it up quickly.

“Hello,”

“Catra,” Coach Weaver’s voice sounded colder than usual, “I understand you were in a car accident.”

“I was,” Catra wasn’t sure where Weaver was going with this.

“I see. How long is your recovery expected to take?”

“I’m not sure. A few months, maybe? The doctor’s haven’t really talked it over with me yet.”

“Ah,”

Adora made a questioning face, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. Catra mouthed “Coach Weaver” to her. Her face melted into sympathy.

“Yeah, I can let you know as soon as they tell me, though.”

“Please do. I’m going to go ahead and assume that you will not be finishing out the season?”

There was only a month left of games.

“Yeah, that’s a good call.”

“Very well. I’m disappointed in you, Catra.”

Anger flared through Catra’s body.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I am disappointed in you. You’re my only upperclassman short stop, and you made the foolish decision to get into the car with a poor driver. You jeopardized your team, not just yourself.”

Catra was in shock.

“Where the hell do you get off, Weaver? We got hit by a drunk driver. Bow’s driving skill had nothing to do with it. Not to mention, I could have _died_. I really can’t believe you’re only worried about the team right now.”

Catra flicked her phone onto speaker, and made a face to get Adora to listen in.

“Catra, you behaved irresponsibly. You should have known that getting in a car with that child-driver would result in nothing more than this. You’re benched for the rest of the season, and I expect you to sit there through every practice and every game in the meantime. You will be expected to show up. If you do not, you will not be a member of the Horde come next year.”

Catra was pretty sure her expression matched the look of shock on Adora’s face.

“Tell you what, Weaver. Just kick me off the team. It’s not like I can play for a while anyways, and I really don’t want to have to put up with your sick idea of a punishment in the meantime.”

Coach Weaver was silent. Her bluff had been called.

“I’ll bring my jersey by your office the next time I’m on campus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, this is my favorite train wreck I've ever written, mainly because it's the only one I've ever gotten out and put online. My own personal works usually never get finished because I obsessively try to go back and fill in plot holes and stuff. Anyways thank u for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha that convo with weaver from the last chapter was taken verbatim from a conversation i had with my narcissist father after i had a career ending knee fracture. not looking for sympathy points or anything, just trying to say that it's totally realistic for someone with NPD to do that lol.  
> Anyways, this story is almost done

It took almost a week for the doctors to discharge Catra. Between her head injuries, and the complications from her leg surgery, it made sense. She didn’t fully understand everything that had been done to save her life, but she did know that there was now a metal rod inserted down the length of her thigh bone, offering support for the nails protruding from her leg.

Adora was by her side the whole week, leaving only for school and softball. She was the one to wheel Catra out of the hospital upon her discharge, and she carried Catra into the house when they realized her wheelchair couldn’t get up the stairs at the front entrance.

Through some unspoken agreement, it had been decided that Adora would stay the night. Catra wasn’t complaining. She didn’t want to admit it, but she really did need help with the basics. It was hard to maneuver through her room in a wheelchair as it was, but with her broken arm, she was basically useless. She also wasn’t supposed to lift more than fifteen pounds at a time until her neurologist cleared her, and she was pretty sure that wheeling herself around would’ve equated to more than fifteen pounds.

Basically, she couldn’t do anything on her own, except draw.

She did that a lot these days. It was pretty much the only thing she was physically capable of doing, besides schoolwork, and it made her feel more in control of the situation. She drew Adora, a lot. She made for an easy subject.

Three days after she arrived at home, though, a problem arose.

“Hey, Catra!” Adora said brightly as she entered Catra’s bedroom, a smile on her face.

“Hey, Adora,”

“What’s the plan for today? Wanna go chill in the front yard again?”

“No, um, actually…” Catra hedged awkwardly.

She hadn’t showered since before the car accident, and it had already been a week and a half. She didn’t really want to ask Adora for help with showering; it was embarrassing enough having to ask her for help getting up and down the stairs every day. Still, she needed to get clean. She was starting to stink.

“I, kinda need help getting into the bathroom…”

“Oh, okay, let me lift you up.”

Catra felt herself blushing.

“No, um, I mean… I need to bathe. And I don’t think I can do it alone.”

Catra was definitely blushing. So was Adora. Neither girl could meet the other’s eyes.

“Oh. I see. Um,” Adora picked at her fingernails, “Let me go downstairs and grab some plastic bags for your casts, and then we can figure something out.”

When Adora returned, they decided Catra would stay in her bra and underwear for the duration of the bath, and Adora would handle washing Catra’s hair.

The hardest part of the process wasn’t getting Catra’s into the tub, surprisingly. It was the process of unwinding the bandages from around her head. Her hair was matted and clung to her scalp. Flakes of dried blood fluttered onto her shoulders whenever she moved.

Adora had Catra angle herself just right, and began pouring water over her scalp with a cup, careful to avoid her incisions.

Catra moaned at the feeling, unable to control herself. She should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. It had been too long, and it felt too good to have her hair washed. The water was perfectly warm, and she sank down into it, completely content. The feeling of Adora’s hands on her scalp only added to her comfort.

Adora worked in silence, biting her lip as she carefully worked shampoo into Catra’s wild mane. Catra still hadn’t looked in a mirror since the accident, and she didn’t want to. She had seen pictures of the accident itself. That was enough.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just quiet. The only sound in the bathroom was the gentle whooshing of water as Adora poured out her cup. Catra’s eyes closed, involuntarily.

She had been exceptionally tired since she had been injured. It didn’t take much for her to fall asleep now, and she did it often. In the middle of boring conversations, while watching TV, while in the bath, whenever. Her neurologist said it was just her brain’s way of healing itself. She didn’t really care. It was nice to just be able to relax.

She felt herself drifting off, halfway between waking and sleeping. Her mind wandered, floating through daydreams of what it would be like if she and Adora were actually together, what it would be like if they still went to school together, what it would be like if they went to _Brightmoon_ together.

That one snapped Catra back to reality. She didn’t want to go to Brightmoon. Brightmoon was for preppy kids with trust funds.

But Adora went to Brightmoon, and even though Catra didn’t know Adora’s friends all that well, they seemed nice enough. Not snooty or pretentious.

Besides, the only good thing Catra had at Hordak was softball, and now that was gone.

Either way, even if she wanted to go to Brightmoon, she couldn’t afford it. Hell, Adora couldn’t even afford it. If it weren’t for her scholarship, she’d still be at Hordak.

Catra wasn’t exactly eligible for a softball scholarship right now, and even if she were, it’s not like she was a good enough shortstop to warrant a scholarship.

The sound of Adora speaking distracted her.

“Are you asleep?”

Catra didn’t respond.

“Yeah, I figured.”

Adora was silent for a moment as she worked some antiseptic cleanser gently into Catra’s scalp incision. Catra did her best to not flinch.

“I was so scared, Catra. So scared. I can’t lose you again. It was bad enough when you hated me. You can’t die on me. That’s not allowed.”

The fear in Adora’s voice was so different than what it had been in the hospital. It was raw, scraping at Catra’s heart with sandpaper. She sounded so broken.

The few times they had talked about the accident, Adora hadn’t quite let on how scared she really was. She had cried, and she had been upset, but Catra had always sensed that a part of her was holding something back.

Here, though, in the quiet of the bathroom, with Catra completely vulnerable, Adora was being fully honest.

“It’s just. I care about you so much, Catra. More than I should. And the worst part is that I can’t even tell you that to your face, because I’m worried I’ll scare you off. I’m not brave enough to lose you again. I couldn’t take it.”

Catra was suddenly exhausted. She had been through so much this year, from losing her best friend, gaining her back, nearly dying in a car accident, and then losing softball. She was tired of hiding. Tired of burying her emotions. She wanted _one_ good thing.

She wanted Adora to know she wasn’t leaving, even if it meant she was going to scare Adora off.

She placed her hand over Adora’s, where it rested on her shoulder.

“You won’t lose me.”

Adora’s voice was quiet, timid.

“Catra?”

“Don’t you get it? I love you. I _am in love with you_. You’re not going to lose me.”

Adora was silent.

Catra wasn’t nervous. She didn’t care anymore. She had lost everything else. She had lost the ability to walk, she had lost the ability to play softball, she had lost the ability to do basically anything on her own. If she lost Adora, too? Well, she had been preparing for that since they had tried being friends again. She was just tired of trying to bury her feelings.

“Catra, open your eyes. Look at me.”

Catra obeyed. Adora was leaning over in her, a shy smile on her face.

“I love you, too.”

Catra’s heart soared.

She swung her good arm up over Adora shoulders and pulled the blonde girl down into a kiss. Water splashed out of the tub, probably soaking Adora, but Catra didn’t care. She was kissing Adora.

Adora was kissing her back.

She felt like her body was on fire. Nerves zinged back and forth, and the butterflies in her stomach were causing a ruckus, but she pushed them down, focusing on the girl in front of her.

When they finally broke apart, Catra couldn’t help but laugh. Adora was covered in water, from head to toe. Her hair was hanging down in wet, stringy clumps and by all means, she should look ridiculous.

Catra thought she had never looked more beautiful.

It took a few minutes to get Catra out of the tub, and into some clean, dry clothes. Adora had been polite enough to avert her eyes from Catra as she stripped out of her wet underwear, but as soon as Catra was fully dressed again, Adora swept her off her feet and placed her gently in bed before lying down next to her. 

Catra snuggled in close, resting her face on Adora’s shoulder. Adora’s hand carded through Catra’s wet hair, pulling it off of her face, and she kept planting kisses on Catra’s forehead.

All at once, the reality of the situation caught up to Catra, and she froze.

“Oh my god. I’ve gone crazy.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, when I hit my head, I must’ve gone into a coma or something. There’s no way this is real. I’m dreaming.”

Adora laughed and rolled so that she was positioned over Catra. She placed a hand on either side of Catra’s face.

“I promise, this is very much real. I am here. I am in love with you, and I’m not leaving.”

And with that, she kissed Catra, slow and deep.

* * *

A few hours passed with the two of them lying there, just drinking in the other’s presence, when Adora’s phone rang. When she saw who was calling, her face visibly brightened.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Catra waved her off, curious about what could be so important.

Adora hopped out of bed and went into the hallway.

Catra was still in shock. She rubbed a thumb over her bottom lip. The lip that Adora had just spent hours kissing.

She wasn’t quite sure what she had done to deserve this, but she wasn’t complaining. Adora was everything she had ever wanted. She wasn’t going to ruin that by sabotaging herself.

“Oh, my gosh! Coach, that’s amazing! I can’t wait to tell her.”

Okay, now Catra really was curious. What was Adora talking about?

The blonde girl came back into the room, a huge smile plastered over her face.

“What was that about?” Catra quirked an eyebrow.

“I’ll only tell you if you promise to not get mad at me.”

Catra’s eyebrow rose even higher, but her curiosity won out after a moment. She nodded her head.

“Okay, so, Coach Angella’s husband is the head of the art department at Brightmoon.”

“Okay…?”

“That _means_ ,” Adora continued, “that as the art head, he has full power to grant a certain number of scholarships every year for students that he thinks show promise.”

“Are you planning on telling me that you’re secretly a prodigy?” Catra smirked.

“No, dummy! Here’s the part where you can’t get mad. I talked to Coach Angella about what Coach Weaver said to you, and about how she banned you from playing softball next year even if you’re healed. She thinks Weaver stepped over the line, and that you’re too talented to waste. She had actually been planning on trying to scout for Brightmoon, since our shortstop is going to be graduating this year.”

“Well, she can’t exactly recruit me now.”

Adora’s face turned sour.

“Yeah, that was a problem. But! I showed her some of your art portfolio, that sketch you drew of me, and a few other pieces that I had pictures of from old art shows, and she showed her husband. He thinks they’re incredible, and he wants to offer you an art scholarship for Brightmoon! Then, next year, if you’re recovered enough, you can try out to play on the team, but even if you’re not able to, you’ll still have a scholarship regardless!”

Catra was shocked.

“You… showed them my art?”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad.” Adora’s face was screwed up with worry.

Catra really wasn’t mad, just surprised. Art had always been more of a hobby for her than anything else. Sure, she was good at it, but she didn’t think she was “incredible” at it.

Adora’s face was tentative.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

Catra shook her head, thoughts racing.

At Hordak, she had no chance of ever playing sports again. At Brightmoon, she could so long as she recovered enough to play. It wasn’t much of a competition.

“What do I have to do to accept?”

Adora’s responding smile made her decision all-the-more worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... look. I'm a slut for the whole "talking to someone while they're asleep except they're not actually asleep" trope. At least I didn't have Adora confess her love to a sleeping Catra. Anyways, there'll be an epilogue up soon. Thank you so much for reading!


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took a few days to get this up. I was driving from Texas to California and I didn't have much time along the way to write. Anyways, here's the epilogue. Thank you for reading, and I really appreciate all the support I've gotten. This is my first full fic I've posted in over ten years, and it meant a lot to have y'all along for the ride.

Recovery had taken a long time. Her facial abrasions and gashes had healed first, and her stitches got removed from her face after only ten days. She had a permanent scar over her eyebrow that she didn’t really mind. Adora said it made her look like a badass. She had even taken to shaving back part of her eyebrow to better show off the silvery skin, taking a set of clippers every few weeks and putting a slit in the brow hairs that grew over it.

Her arm healed next. The cast came off after eight long weeks. She was grateful to finally be able to move herself around, even if her arm got sore on the longer days. She kept the cast, though. Something about Adora’s goofy doodle on its wrist made her smile every time she looked at it.

Technically, her head healed next. It took three months, but she was _technically_ cleared for sports and extended screentime. However, her neurologist made it a point to emphasize that she should not play contact sports for a while. Whatever. Softball season wasn’t for six more months anyways.

Her leg took the longest to heal. The doctors had decided it was best to leave the metal rod in her thigh bone for at least another year or two, until the “bone callus” – their fancy word for bone scar – had healed up properly. They’d reassess in a few years.

Still, even after her cast came off, total recovery was a long way away. Physical therapy was rough. Her leg was in pain almost all of the time, even when she took her pain meds as instructed. She had to use a cane for support, most days, and it was always a fight to keep Adora from carrying her up the stairs whenever she thought Catra was in too much pain.

Adora pushed her, hard. She was Catra’s biggest motivation for recovery. Practicing walking was grueling, but it was less so when her girlfriend was waiting for her at the end of the walkway with open arms and a kiss at the ready.

Girlfriends. They were officially dating now. Weekly trips to the movie theater, weekend trips to the mall, diner dates, they did everything together. Sleepovers now devolved into makeout and cuddle sessions, with Netflix on in the background to muffle the sounds of their giggles. They had made the executive decision to not tell either of their parents that they were dating until after they had moved out for college, hoping that they could still keep having sleepovers if they pretended to be just friends.

Catra switched schools officially after the holiday break, on a full art scholarship to Brightmoon Academy. She loved her new school. Adora hadn’t been lying when she said that Coach Angella was nice. The school’s team trained year-round, and Angella allowed Catra to attend every one of the team’s practices, despite not being a member. After a while of doing water runs for the team and acting as a bat boy at the batting cages, Angella approached Catra one day with an offer.

“So, I understand you aren’t sure about whether or not you’ll be fit to try out in time for next year’s season.”

“I’m still waiting on my ortho doc to give me a timeline.”

“Well, I have an idea. I’ve seen how much you love the game, and I’ve read some of the comments you’ve left in my box- “

“Those are supposed to be anonymous!”

Angella smiled at her, a parental look in her eyes.

“You have distinct handwriting. Anyways, you seem to have a knack for strategy and gameplan, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in working as a student coach, beginning next semester.”

Catra’s jaw dropped to the floor.

“Of course, if you’re healthy enough by the time tryouts come around, it’s no big deal! I’m sure the team wouldn’t mind electing you as a team captain. Same duties, different title. They seem to like you a lot.”

Catra flushed. Angella wasn’t wrong. While Sparkles hadn’t been the most welcoming of her at first, all of the other team members had flocked around her, enjoying the new company. After a while, even Sparkles had come around, after Catra had gotten roped into talking her through a particularly nasty fight with her mother, Coach Angella.

“Would you be interested in that?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I’m interested!”

“Fantastic! I’ll let Micah know that he won’t be getting all of your free time anymore.”

Things kept getting better. Between her upcoming art show and Adora’s insistence that Catra join her front yard commune on a regular basis, Catra finally felt like she was experiencing high school the way she was supposed to. She had activities to look forward to, friends to hang out with, and the best girlfriend in the world.

She said as much to Adora, late one night during a sleepover at the blonde’s house.

They were tangled around each other, some bad action movie playing quietly in the background. Stars shone bright through the windows, and the full moon hung low in the sky, offering some light in the room. Adora had her hands buried in Catra’s hair, rubbing along her healed incision lines the way she always did when Catra mentioned they were aching.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Adora murmured, her lips brushing over the tip of Catra’s nose.

Catra hummed, a contented sound that seemed to rise up from deep in her chest. Her arms were loosely wrapped around Adora’s waist, and she used their position as an excuse to pull her girlfriend closer to her. Adora squeaked and giggled, before planting a soft kiss on Catra’s lips.

Catra brought her hand up to Adora’s face, brushing back blonde strands of hair out of the girl’s eyes.

“Hey,” Catra whispered.

“Hey,” Adora’s voice was hushed, full of happiness.

“I love you,”

“I love you more,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, thank you again. I really appreciate every single one of you


End file.
